


Vincent, Redefined - Part 3

by banquos_ghost, TheArtOfBlossoming



Series: Vincent, Redefined [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Addiction, After main storyline, Alcohol Abuse, Amputee, Bisexual Male Character, Brotherhood of Steel - Freeform, Disability, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fallout 4 gameplay, Game Spoilers, Gay Sex, Gen, M/M, Minutemen, Original Character Death(s), Parenthood, Recovery, Rehabilitation, Sex, Sexual Orientation, alternative parenting, bereavment, chem abuse, first same sex relationship, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-08-31 13:12:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 35,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8579902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banquos_ghost/pseuds/banquos_ghost, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtOfBlossoming/pseuds/TheArtOfBlossoming
Summary: Vincent has been rescued but where does he stand? The Sole Survivor of vault 111 has to face facts. Gone is the 'married with 2.5 kids and white picket fence' paradigm. The face of relationships and family units has changed and the mosaic of his broken heart shows a very different picture.





	1. Rise and Shine

Vincent became aware of hushed speech nearby, though he could not pick out a single word. Light filtered through his eyelids and his consciousness. Smooth, clean sheets wrapped his resting body. He opened his eyes.

“ _Alors_! Well, look who is awake at last! _Docteur_ Forsythe, where is Knight-Captain Cade?” A mumble from somewhere.

“Proctor Ingram, Madam, would you also awaken, _oui_?”

Vincent found his tongue and the first name out of his mouth was…“Mac?” He opened his eyes to see, not MacCready but Ingram. His Tess. She looked at him with a gentle smile. “No, Vincent. It’s me.” His eyes came into focus and in that moment, he awoke fully. He reached out to draw her to him and did something for the very first time: he kissed her, tenderly, slowly. When they parted, he became fully aware of his surroundings. The Sentinel-General had been brought to the new Med-Clinic at Sanctuary Hills. He knew it well; he’d built most of it. Vin was in a partitioned area. Curie appeared holding a can of water and a clipboard. “Here. It is very important to stay hydrated, _non_? Let me check your vitals, _aussi_.”

Vincent managed to sit up. The burning pain and stiffness had gone, as had the myoclonus…but he seemed to remember that he wasn’t shaking anymore right after Mac had… He abandoned the thought as he looked at Tess properly. For a split second his brain tried to persuade him that she was astride a motorbike but when he focussed, he saw that she was not in her usual mobility-enhancing frame but sat in what looked like a pimped-up wheelchair. “Motorcycle wheels?” he asked. Ingram laughed. “Bingo. It seems that Sturges had a little project going on the side. Good job, too, my left actuator stripped a gear. He persuaded me to let him fix it so I could be here when you woke up. Glad I let him, now.” Vincent shifted for a better look. “Wish I’d thought o’ that,” he muttered.

Ingram’s expression became serious once more. “How are you feeling now? We thought we were gonna lose you for a moment, there.” Lose him? Vin had felt like crap - when he was conscious, anyway - but had it really been that bad? Knight-Captain Cade appeared, carrying a chair which he put firmly down at Vin’s bedside. “Good to see you with us again, Sir. Permission to speak freely, as your doctor?” Vin was a little dazed but granted the request.

“Man to man, sir, that was the most irresponsible course of action considering your unique medical history. Just plain stupid.” Vincent raised his eyebrows in surprise, curious to know what was coming next. Cade opened a folder and read: “Historically, noted issues with chem and alcohol reliance. During and after U.S. Military service: Post Combat Stress Syndrome. Combat drug testing, noted allergic to Psycho, propensity toward Buffout addiction. Long term cryogenic freezing causing minor anomalies. Post-war: Trauma, resurgence of PCSS. Molerat Disease (VT-81MRD). Not to mention heavy use of Stimpaks, Rad-X, Radaway and certain Nuka products.”

“If I may, Knight-Captain, ” Curie interjected; Cade nodded. “Dear friend, what we are trying to communicate is that your poor body has been under much undue stress. Your _biologie_ is complex and has been straining to adapt to what…ah…to what we have had generations to deal with. ”

“Curie’s right. That and the fact that you’re lucky Proctor Quinlan had the schematics. That confounded contraption was broken when you used it and half the sterilization sleeves were dysfunctional. Whoever was in the chair last was using Psycho, so you had an allergic reaction on top of the infection. You’re damn lucky to be listening to this ticking off, Sir.”

Everyone was quiet for a minute, letting Vincent fully digest this information. Ingram broke the silence. “Curie, Cade, give us a little privacy please.” They nodded and left. Vin turned to look at Tess, whose face was a picture of stern concern. “Why did you risk it, Vincent? You should’ve had that old tech secured, verified and overhauled before even _thinking_ of using it. What was going through that hard ol’ head of yours?”

“You really don’t want to know, Tess. Besides, a friend used it first and they were fine afterward.” Vincent lowered his voice. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you that I wasn’t coping. I’m sorry I leaned on the booze and chems instead of leaning on you.” A shiver went through his body as he realised that he’d said almost the very same thing to Nora a very long time ago.

“Wasn’t addictol enough? Heck, even a radscorpion omelette? They scour you clean again.” Vin shook his head. “I was stuck, getting addicted, getting clean, getting hooked again. There was nothing to break the cycle. I swear, after this, I’m going C-total. No more Buffout, no Jet, not even Med-X unless it's prescribed.” Ingram sighed and maneuvered to be closer to him. She put a hand on his cheek. “I had no idea, Vin. I can’t say I’m surprised after everything you’ve been through but I didn’t really understand. We haven’t had the time to really get to know each other but I know one thing for sure. I’ve gone and fallen for you, head over…huh…wheels.” She leaned in to kiss him again and whispered “I love you, Vincent Nathaniel Hudson.” Vin held her to him and sighed. Ingram leaned back and looked at him with an amused and puzzled grin. “Was it an automatic barbers chair, too?” Vincent laughed warmly and stroked his still respectable ‘tache. “Heh, no. MacCready turns out to have hidden talents.” Vin had meant Mac’s skill at shaving but the memory of their intimacy rushed back and suddenly he was blushing. Tess misread it as a sign that he needed rest and made him lay down, promising to be back soon. “Wait! Where is our Knight-Major, anyway?” Ingram stopped mid-turn and said, “There was no room on the ‘bird. The Lancer-Captain sent for another. He should be here soon. Now, rest!" Vin's face adopted mock-seriousness. “I’ll take that as an order, Ma'am,” Vin said, with an old style salute. Tess smiled softly, “Ad Victoriam, Sentinel.” Proctor Ingram turned and propelled her way out of the room.

A day and a half later, Vincent just couldn’t stay in bed any longer. Cade had returned to the Prydwen, satisfied that his patient no longer required his services. Doctor Forsythe had also returned to his surgery at Vault 81, so he was left in the care of a nurse and the newly-appointed Scribe Curie. She entered the room to find Vincent out of bed, squatting barefoot on the floor, searching the bedside unit for his clothes. “Ah, Sentinel-General, sir, I advise you return to bed immediately!” Vincent’s arm shot out and whipped the bedsheet around him. “Damn it, Curie, where are my clothes?” “Apologies, _monsieur_. They are being sterilized and restored. I will have them returned shortly. In the meantime I do believe there to be a T-shirt and trousers there? Let nurse Anis know if they are the wrong dimensions.”

Vincent couldn’t help but let his frustration melt into a belly laugh. It was a good job that Curie sounded foreign, it made it easier to explain her odd way of talking. If Maxson found out before Vin had had a chance to have _that_ talk with him (the one where he was going to attempt to persuade the East Coast Brotherhood that Gen 3 synths were people, too and _not_ start a war) then Curie would need to vanish as suddenly as Danse had done. He pulled on the clothes which fitted him perfectly. So well in fact that he looked closely at them…and recognised them, even through the faded colour and worn edges. They were his. They had been his, before the war. He pulled off the T-shirt and looked for the little fox that Nora had doodled on the label. There it was, just. A surge of nostalgia washed over him. He kissed the label, whispering “I loved you first. I always will,” then quickly put the shirt back on as Curie returned with his blue Vault 88 suit, armour and boots. He took the boots but returned everything else to the bedside cupboard. “I’ll wear these for now,” he explained. “Any sign of MacCready, yet?” Curie shook her head. “ _Non_ , perhaps he had been delayed?” She returned to her lab, upstairs.

Vin wished he’d installed a Population Manager in Sanctuary. Useful as they were, he felt a little uncomfortable using them still. Maybe he’d stay here for a few days, work on that house he was fixing up for Mac and Duncan, let himself recover fully and enjoy getting to know Tess much, much better. The memory of the night they spent comforting each other, just holding one another innocently made Vin smile, made him promise to do more for her the next time they shared a bed. Then a flash of the memory of MacCready’s gentle, concerned eyes and something stirred in Vin that he pushed away quickly and muttered to himself, “Where in the name of Grognak’s Axe are you, Mac? Damn it. Take your time, then. Might give me a chance to figure out exactly how I’m going to face you again after…oh, turdbomb. Fucknuke. You motherfriggin’ asshole, Vin. Dickcheese.”

Curie’s face as she rounded the partition, ready to collect a bloodsample, was priceless. Synths have excellent hearing.


	2. Through a Boy's Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaun was rescued from the Institute and now lives at the Red Rocket truck stop just outside Concord. He can look after himself but Diesel Dan and Piper are often around. More than his dad is. His wish to see him again will come true soon...

Dogmeat crawled low on his belly, shuffling forwards up the rise a bit at a time, level with Shaun. The boy wore an old batting helmet and the remains of a leather chest piece. In his hand, something akin to a crossbow, cobbled together from junk. Dogmeat growled suddenly, the boy heard a buzz of wings, tried to lay even lower and steadied his bow. He pulled the trigger and a projectile exploded forth, followed by a thin stream of laser energy. The bloatfly exploded into a goopy splatter that fell glistening onto the dried foliage below.

Shaun leapt up, pumped the air with his fist, shouting "Blasted! Yes!" but Dogmeat's bark alerted him to the other two bloatflies. Shaun hit the deck and reloaded whilst his canine guardian took one down. He aimed again; the thing squirted its larvae forth, mostly missing but catching the boy on his unprotected arm. Shaun pulled the trigger…missed. The ugly thing was almost in his face but was suddenly pulled backward. Shaun hit a wing off, Dogmeat gave a final bite. Shaun stood, somewhat shakily. "Thanks, boy. Good work." He ruffled Dogmeat's ears and retrieved the meat. That's all the flies were now, dinner.

His arm itched. Hunkering down, he wiped off the nasty excretia onto some hubflowers and was about to sneak further towards Abernathy farm when a man's voice rang out. "Boy. Get back here, at once." A towering form in beetle-like armour stood there. Shaun knew he was in for it, again. Dogmeat raced towards Danse, barking at the kid to follow. Shaun scrambled down the slope and walked back into the boundaries of Red Rocket, to stand with his head hanging down in front of his 'Uncle Dan'.

"What were you thinking, young man? Your orders were to stay within the boundary, for your own safety." Shaun looked up through his eyebrows. "You can't give me orders, uncle Dan. I'm not a soldier." "Which is exactly why you don't engage in combat of any kind, am I clear?" Shaun scratched his arm. "I was hunting, not soldiering. Anyhow, Dogmeat had my back." Danse sighed. "Not my point. Here, let's clean that off properly before it gets…worse." Danse put his giant metal-clad arm around the boy's shoulders and led him to a basin.

***

Shaun mopped up the last of his bloatfly stew with a slice of razorgrain flatbread. He wished his Dad was back, seemed like he was never around. Uncle Dan was alright, pretty strict but really good at teaching him cool stuff. Piper was around alot, too. She told amazing stories and kept saying that her kid sister Nat couldn't wait to meet him. Yeah, right. When someone actually dared to take him to Diamond City. They'd both probably be grown up by then. Shaun hoped that he'd look like his dad. He couldn't wait to get big muscles and a beard and join the Minutemen. He'd wander all over the Commonwealth, making new settlements and rescuing people. Just like his Dad.

He washed his dishes, put them away and scooted out of the door before anyone could order him around. He'd done his chores and had the rest of the dwindling day to himself, so he headed for his den. It used to be home to a bunch of molerats and still stank but Shaun didn't care. He'd made himself a 'secret bunker' here and had collected all sorts of odds and ends. He stood with his back to an upright beam, fished a stubby pencil from his pocket and carefully marked where the top of his head was. He stepped forward and turned, a hopeful expression on his face. That look soon faded as he saw that his latest mark had landed more or less where the first two had. Maybe he was due one of those growth spurts that Piper had complained of Nat going through recently. Or maybe…the unformed thought dissipated as quickly as it had emerged. Shaun was left with a restless, uncomfortable feeling that he just could not name, so he switched into 'inventor mode' and carried on sketching out his next creation.

"Shau…oh dammit...Password, 1-S-1-H-1," rang out Piper's voice. "Code accepted. Just a second, Piper!" A moment later, Shaun came running out. "Shaun, your dad…he's just been brought to the hospital. Doctor Cade won't let us visit yet, maybe in the morning, OK?" Shaun stood still, wide-eyed. "Is he hurt bad? Is he gonna die?" Piper knelt down to face him eye to eye. "All I know is he's real sick, kiddo, but Knight-Captain Cade and Curie are looking after him, MacCready must be with him too, they were on patrol together. He'll be alright. He'll be fine. He's in good hands. We'll go visit first thing, alright." Shaun said nothing but stared sadly at her. "Don't worry, kiddo. Your pop's a tough guy. He'll be fine. You'll see. Just fine." Piper hugged Shaun and turned her face away from him so that he couldn't see just how worried she was.


	3. A Normal Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vin receives visitors but there is still no sign of MacCready.

It was Sturges' idea, having some real time off. Of course, 'weekends' and 'holidays' were a thing of the past, long extinct like so many other luxuries. However, the whole community agreed that this one man, who had been through so much and achieved such fundamental change for the better, deserved some respite.

Of course, Vincent had the privilege of rank. Being a Sentinel of the Brotherhood of Steel allowed him a great deal of autonomy. Being the General of the Minutemen also brought a certain freedom alongside the increased responsibility. The fact that his rank put him in an ideal position to take advantage of such luxuries wasn't lost on the Minutemen's cool, pompadour-coiffed chief mechanic. 

Sturges approached the town bell just before the traders were due to open their stalls, knowing that the patient was tucked safely away in his hospital bed, hopefully sleeping still. He rang it once and leaned back on the house wall, arms crossed, waiting. They came in dribs and drabs, meandering down the quiet road and gathered around the bell. A quick headcount to make sure that most were present and Sturges stood up straight, coughed and raised a hand.

“Mornin' all. Bet y'all were expectin' to see Preston…I mean, Colonel Garvey. Well, no, he's at the Castle so you got me. Here's the thing, folks. Our man Vincent, our General and Sentinel, you may have figured out he's been none too well. Glad to say the man's almost back to bein' hisself again but he sorely needs our help. 

Now I can't go into details but the guy's been through some real rough shit, so here's the plan. We're gonna give him some space. Some time to just mosey around and do whatever he feels like doin' to relax. See, here's where you come in. We're gonna be lookin' after him. I need volunteers for extra guard duty (several settlers raised their hands), Freddy, need you to check the perimeter and gimme a list of weak spots to shore up (the ghoul nodded). Now, he'll wanna go back and forth to Red Rocket when he's able so lookouts, keep an extra eye out. We got his back, understand? So if he wants to swan around in just his pants he can. He'll be safe with us watchin' out fer him. You feel me? (Smiles, nods, mumbles of agreement). Alrighty. Have yourselves a fine day, thanks for your time, folks."

"Didn't know you had it in you to say so much at once," Marcy drawled. Sturges took it as the complement it was intended to be, hidden though it was behind her sullen tone. He sauntered back home, to the house near the bridge and saw two figures approaching. Piper and Shaun had returned. Yesterday they'd tried to visit Vin but were turned back by a Brotherhood Knight, much to Piper's annoyance. Shaun was upset but excited to stand so close to the power-armoured soldier. 

Today, however, the bridge was guarded by a pair of Minutemen. Shaun was equally excited to greet them. "Sheesh, kid, you want to be a Minuteman now? Yesterday it was a Brotherhood Knight. Can't you choose?" Shaun looked up sidelong at her. "Dad didn't, why can't I be both, too?" Piper shrugged and sighed "Fair point, kiddo." The Minuteman nearest nodded and told them that the General was permitted to see 'select visitors' (Cade's words, not his) and that they were on the list, so they rounded the corner to the clinic door and checked in with the nurse.

Vincent lay on his side, hooked up to a drip. The raging pain had reduced down to mild irritation. Whatever Curie had concocted up in her lab, it was working. She had excitedly explained the details of the cure and profusely apologised that it had taken just over two hours for her to work out the complexities of co-morbid molerat virus and psycho allergy with cryogenic variables or some such. Cade had been mightily impressed (having bought the lie that she was a renegade scientist 'rescued' from the institute) and had put in a recommendation for her induction and immediate promotion to Scribe. He still felt exhausted, however. A knock on the doorframe made him roll over and prop himself on one elbow. 

"Hey there, Blue….how're you feeling? I brought someone to see you." Shaun peered through the doorway, hesitantly. It was strange, seeing this hero in a hospital bed, looking pale and tired. "Hey Piper, better than yesterday, at least." He looked at the boy wordlessly for a moment. "Hello Shaun." He never really knew what to say to this boy that wasn't a boy, this kid that wasn't directly his creation. Those eyes…Nora's eyes…he couldn't hold the gaze and looked away. "Still didn't find an alarm clock." Shaun said nothing. "Maybe that's why I've been asleep so long." It may have been a lame joke but it broke the ice and both Shaun and Piper laughed. "Hey Blue, I didn't see MacCready when we came over. Where is the dolt?" Vin smirked. "I knew it. You miss him, don'tcha?"

"What? That filthy merc? Never in a million years…." Vin raised his eyebrows. "Come on, Piper. I'm not blind, you know." "Well, you can't be seeing straight. You didn't answer my question. I see Bottle but where's Cappy?" Vin winced. "Yeah…I really hope that's not going to be my new nickname. Not great for someone who's this close to being an alcoholic. Mac isn't here, I don't know where he is. There wasn't room on the Vertibird and they sent another but he'd gone off on foot. Keep an ear open, doll, won't you?" Piper couldn't hide her concern any longer. "Was he alright last time you saw him? Was he hurt?" ('I don't know,' Vincent thought, 'his feelings, maybe. Did I ask too much?') "He kept me safe and alive, probably just gone off to find a decent bar somewhere." Piper shrugged. "Well, if you see him, _don't_ bother telling him I asked."

Shaun just looked puzzled and decided to change the topic. "Hey Dad, I made a really swell Laser Crossbow! It fires empty shells and has an extra-fine laser beam. I blasted a couple of bloatflies with it!" Vincent looked a little vacant. "Nice. Listen, kid, I'm real tired. I'll come and visit when I'm better, 'kay?" Shaun said he was okay with that but really he was thinking that he was being sent away. Why didn't dad ever want to be around him for long? Was there something wrong? Didn't he like Shaun? The nurse came to usher them out and Vincent rolled over again, turning his back to Shaun?….not-Shaun? He let sleep find him again before his mind could race around that particular maze again. Oh, for a normal life.


	4. The Sight for Sore Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready still hasn't returned. Mama Murphy asks Vincent for chems again. His choice has severe consequences.

The old woman looked up at him with pleading eyes. This was a risky choice and he wouldn't be popular for it but he respected her right to choose. She knew the risks and he wasn't doing it for an obtuse peek at the future, it was just for her. He handed over the triple-barrelled syringe and Mama Murphy expertly found a vein and pushed the poison in.

 She drew a deep, quivering breath. "The sight, it wants you to find your own path," she exclaimed, then so quietly Vincent only just caught it, she whispered, "Let me go, kid, because they can't."

   With a loud exclamation, Mama Murphy clutched at her chest and toppled off her chair. Vincent couldn't move. Footsteps behind him, surrounding him. Marcy, Jun and Sturges, checking for breath and finding none. Marcy's angry disbelief, Jun's despair, Sturges' shock, all these emotions battered Vincent like the merciless tides at Far Harbor. When Vin finally managed to speak, he could only mutter "Sturges..?" "I...I need a minute," the mechanic replied.

Cait ran to the door. She'd come to Sanctuary with a routine Minuteman patrol, having got bored of being cooped up at the castle. She had desperately wanted to check how Vincent was recovering after his rehab ordeal, even after her heartfelt flirting had been rejected. "Let's keep this professional," he'd said. Fine. He could have it his way but it didn't change how she felt. She couldn't exactly claim he was her only friend anymore though, not after joining the Minutemen. Evenings spent teaching them drinking games, getting trained in the use of multiple weapon types by Ronnie Shaw (who had become an unlikely mother figure to Cait) and proving to be a highly effective member of the volunteer militia had made her quite popular. So here she was, making sure Vincent was safe whilst he took some time off. She'd heard Marcy kick off all the way from the Tree. "What's goin' on here? What the fuck happened?."

Vincent didn't answer her questions but instead ordered, "Follow me." He took Cait across the river to Red Rocket, straight to the back room and shut the door.

"I need to get Preston, now. Mama Murphy is dead." Dogmeat barked in the distance. "I…helped her."

Cait just stared incredulously for a moment then sputtered, "You did what now? You soddin' _helped_ her?" Vin was rummaging around behind a hanging tool rack. "Got it." He pulled out a scrumpled, singed wad of folded paper, opened it, pulled one out and refolded the rest. "Give these to Sturges and the Longs. I'll be back soon as I can."

Cait squared up to the taller, heavier Minuteman. "What. The fuck. Just happened?"

Vincent addressed Cait's feet, his voice low. "Mama Murphy asked me for chems. She gave me her reasons. I gave her what she needed." He glanced up. At Cait's sour expression, he added, "Don't give me any shit for this, Caitlyn. I made a hard choice. I'm going now. Back soon as I can." 

"I don't fuckin' believe this! How could you? After what we've _both_ been through, are you insane, man? Well, don't expect me to welcome you home, you freakin' hypocrite." Cait spat.

Vincent looked over his shoulder. Quietly, he added, "I said 'No Shit.' Now follow orders and deliver those."

Cait saluted with a rude gesture she made sure Vin didn't see and stormed off.

*** 

Vincent arrived at the Castle just as the first star appeared in the sky. He saw the Minuteman..well, Minutewoman first. "Where's the Paladin-Colonel?" "Sir! He's with the Barber, Sir." Vincent nodded curtly and entered the passageway. He found Paladin-Colonel Garvey half-shorn and with one look at Vin's face, Preston said "We'll finish later, " jammed his hat back on his head and left the barber poised in silent, open-handed protest.

Vincent ordered his second-in-command to follow him and it was only when they'd left the castle grounds far behind that Preston forced Vin to stop and tell him what the hell was going on.

      Vincent looked around and spotted a door whose boards had mostly been ripped away. He prised off the last, readied his weapon and hit the torch on his Pip-boy. One, reedlike withered ghoul started to drag itself up from behind the shop counter but was soon put down. Dust settled. No other viable entrances, good. Privacy.

The Sentinel-General stood up straight and announced, "Colonel, I am sorry to inform you that Mama Murphy passed away today, of her own volition." 

 "What?" Preston's eyes grew wide, his eyebrows cresting at the centre."H..how did she die?" His face suddenly melted from shock and grief into suspicion tinged anger. "Tell me Vincent. Tell me it wasn't chems. Please."

Vin sighed. "I can't do that, Preston."

Garvey lost his cool and shouted "You gave your word! You promised! How dare you break my trust like that?" He was clenching his fist so hard that his knuckles paled. 

  "This wasn't about you and I, Preston," Vincent quietly replied. He was braced to take a punch but it never came.  He slowly reached into his chestplate pocket and pulled out the creased, scorched paper and handed it over. "Her last words to you."

 Preston's expression sank into melancholy. He slowly opened the single page. It was dated the day before the Quincy massacre and read:

_'You listened and I followed you. Listen again now but don't follow me. I chose my final path. My right. My way. Don't shoot the messenger, dear Preston. He listened, he respected my choice though hard for him to hear. Too many years under my belt, seen too much. One last fight then I gotta surrender. My choice. My damn choice. Be safe, Angel.'_

Preston fell to his knees and wept quietly, until Vincent heard something shift outside and placing a hand on his shoulder, brought the seasoned Minuteman back to the present danger.

Through a pack of ghouls they tore, laser-rifle punching the air, Gauss slicing through it. They travelled in darkness and silence, save for the cries of their weapons here and there.

  ***

Dawn broke over Sanctuary. The green velvet chair sat devoid of purpose. Sturges had removed Mama's remains to a sheltered corner and wrapped her in tattered cloths, ready for burial.

The two men walked over the bridge. From her seat at the lookout perch, Cait saw them coming first and shot up, ran down the unstable scaffold stairs and rushed up to Vincent. She pushed Vin hard on one shoulder, not caring that this was inappropriate behaviour for one outranked.

" 'Bout time you showed up. How could you? How the hell could you! After what you've been through. How could you do that to an old lady, General? Are you using again? Is that it?" 

Preston stepped between them. "Stand down and cool off, Cait. You're making a scene. Inside, now." Preston led Cait and Vin into the 'shop house, where Marcy was consoling a crying Jun and Sturges sat statue-like in the corner.

 "Take a seat," Preston urged. Marcy jumped up and pounded on Vincent's armoured chest before he could comply. "How could you? How could you! Fucking junkie bastard _murderer_!" she screamed. "No, Preston, I don't care who I'm talking to. He's a _scumbag_." Cait bit her lip but nodded. 

To everyone's surprise, it was Jun who broke the tension. He stood and very gently took Marcy's shoulder, spun her around in his embrace and said "No, love. It's not Vincent's fault. You read Mama's letter. She was hurtin', we all knew." Sturges stood and strode out of the room, returning a moment later with a shovel which he threw at Vin. "Least you can do." he growled. "I'll show ya where." Cait stormed off, back to her post.

Vincent dug the grave, right next to the one he'd prepared for Nora, ready for when Mac returned to help him fetch her remains out of Vault one-eleven . Stripped to the waist, he attacked the soil with vigour, letting his despair and grief open a wound in the earth large enough for the remains of the group elder.

When the grave was dug, Preston, Sturges, Marcy and Jun lowered her gently in. Vincent filled the hole and placed concrete slabs across it with a concrete headstone. Sturges brought the green chair and placed it on the grave, Jun brought a vase of flowers and Preston lit a candle. Marcy, curled up on the ground, just wept.

The group sat together and at Preston's suggestion, read the notes that Mama had left. He began. Next, Jun opened the joint letter to him and Marcy: _"Long awaited will arrive after I'm gone. In safety, a baby is born for you to care for as your own. Marcy, when you open to grief; Jun, when you let anger in, she will come. Don't let my passing weigh you down. It's been a long time coming. You still have good lives to live. It was my choice, dear ones. My damn choice."_

Sturges opened his. _"You can't fix what doesn't want to be fixed, kid. Sometimes its OK to let things be broken or different than you want them to be. Some secrets only come out when you're dead. It'll still all turn out right in the end, you'll see."_

Preston reached inside his waistcoat and gave a small envelope to Vincent. "Mama Murphy gave me this before I'd even met you. She said I'd know who to give it to at her grave. 'The Sight'...gives me the shivers sometimes, it really does."

Vin accepted and carefully opened the envelope. Inside was a small slip of paper that simply read, _"You saved them all and freed me. Thanks, champ. Now go on and enjoy your life."_


	5. Alone, Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sole Survivor and Proctor Ingram get some much-needed alone time...for a short while, at least.

The rising sunlight crept through the window, tentatively shifting through the last strains of radstorm fog. A light rain fell, refreshing the dry soil. The soft swishing of razorgrain and rustling of mutfruit bushes reached Vincent's ears, alongside the soft breathing sounds of the woman by his side. 

He lay curled around her protectively, though in reality she was the Shield, his anchor, their Proctor Ingram, his Tess.

She shifted, slowly waking, pressing into his chest, breathing in the scent of him. Vincent ran a hand slowly, gently, over the back of her head, scooping into her neck, cupping her shoulder, following the freeway of her arm to her hip then slowing even more, tenderly over the remains of her leg. He ran his fingers over the undulating terrain of her scars, softly, carefully. She breathed deeply as he moved to her inner thigh and up into her warmth, brushing soft curling hairs with his fingertips to find her moist vulnerability and to massage pleasure into her.

Ingram smiled. She allowed her hand to wander on its own journey, over his wide, muscular frame, downward to seek evidence of his arousal. She undulated as he gently reached into her and in response, wrapped her fingers gently around his shaft.

Vincent jerked away, suddenly, breaking all contact. Ingram turned to look into his green eyes. "What's wrong? Did I hurt you? Is it still too soon?" Vincent wrapped both arms tightly around her and tried to find the words. He wanted Tess so badly but the last person to grasp him just there gently, wasn't here. He didn't know where he was and that bothered Vin more than he cared to admit. Besides, it was _never_ going to happen again. He was here, finally, with his lady love. So, he muttered reassurances and resumed his explorations. Tess ran a hand over his thighs, kissed him on the lips, then found the sweet-smelling hollow of his neck. Kisses rained over his chest, his arms, danced around his bellybutton and down to line the creases of each thigh.

He made sure the light sheet was pulled over her, took her by the waist and lifted her up, smiling, proceeding to carefully lower her for a kiss and lift her repeatedly. "So are you calling me a dumbell now?" Ingram said, jokingly. "You're not the dumb one," Vin replied. He lowered her very slowly down until she sat on his legs. When she pulled her short thighs together around his erection and wriggled, Vin drew her into a deep, passionate kiss. With his hands guiding her hips, compensating for her lack of leverage, she lowered herself and surrounded him, gently rocking, tenderly moving with his rhythm.

They made unhurried love, noticing each sensation, breathing in the scent of each other, bathing in the warmth of their lover. Vincent retreated in timely fashion to which Ingram quietly informed him that it wasn't necessary; she had always known that she would never bear children. These days, the women that could were the lucky ones. He stroked her strong jawline, gazing wordlessly into her through her eyes. She lay down to hold his head to her chest and they were still again, as the sun crested the hill.

"Dad? Dad are you here?" Banging on the closed metal shutter, Shaun woke Vincent up again. Ingram was already wide awake, in the middle of doing press-ups, supported by the low bed. She smiled, wryly. "There's your alarm clock going off." Vin washed quickly at the basin, pulled on his briefs and the bottom half of his blue jumpsuit, calling "Hey kid. Gimme a minute." Turning to Tess he said, "Stay right here, I'll bring us breakfast." "Don't be too long, I've got to pop over to Sanctuary, deconstruct the generator, recalibrate the emission sequencers and get the power back up by nightfall." Vin gave a sideways nod and said "Yes, ma'am. Hey, Sturges offered his help so you'll get it done alright." Another bang. "Dad? Are you ready?" Vin huffed. "On my way."

He left the private apartment, built around the outside of the garage rollerdoor, by a side entrance. Shaun and Dogmeat greeted him and Vin gladly gave the alsatian a rub between the ears. "Good to see you boy. Been lookin' after this guy for me?" Dogmeat barked his response. Vin sometimes wondered at exactly how much Dogmeat seemed to understand. He turned to Shaun just as the boy launched into a hug. Vin stood there, arms open, uncomfortable with this new development. "I missed you, Dad. Doc Forsythe didn't think you were going to make it but Knight-Captain Cade and Scribe Curie worked real hard on the medical science and Curie found the answer in just _two hours flat_ , isn't that outstanding? She said they gave you a super stimpak and…" Vin raised his hand "Yeah. I'm very grateful. Did you eat yet?" Shaun nodded. "Good," Vincent replied. "I got that old camera you wanted, its on the workbench." The boy's face lit up. "Thanks dad, I'll make something useful, you'll see. Um…" This was usually where Vin walked away and didn't return for days but Shaun knew that the Sentinel-General was on medical leave and would be around for a while longer this time. "Can I show you something? It's a secret." Vin frowned. "Maybe later, kid. Proctor Ingram is waiting for her breakfast and you don't want to be around her when she's too hungry." The boy looked at the floor and just nodded, then called for Dogmeat and hurried off to get the camera and start tinkering.

Vincent heard Ingram approach, once more encased in the modified power armour frame she referred to as her 'rig'. "I don't smell cooking yet and I'm starved." Vin turned to look up at her, standing a good few inches taller than he. "I thought I told you to stay put?" "Couldn't. My morning routine has been drilled into me. Relaxing doesn't come easy." Vincent remembered his first few weeks of military retirement. Nora had had a go at him about being up and dressed so early. "I get it," he said. "Well, since you're up, please go fetch me a few Tatos. One fried breakfast comin' up." 

They enjoyed their meal together, stood up on the roof of the Red Rocket, making small talk, discovering little details about each other, deepening their natural friendship; like how Vincent had mostly been known as his middle name, Nate, in the army because of another Vincent in their battalion. That Vinnie was a complete dick by all accounts. Ingram put her plate down and looked intensely at Vin. "I've got to ask, this has been playing on my mind alot since my last visit here." Vin replied, "Fire away." Ingram frowned. "When are you going to accept that you're his Dad?" This took Vin by surprise and he couldn't reply, so Tess carried on. "That boy idolizes you but you push him away every time. I came over here to check on…Dan…while you were in the med-bay. Hehe…'Uncle Dan'. He's doing your job for you, you know. Never pegged him for the fatherly type but he's doing a good job in your absence. The kid loves him but he loves you more. You know, if you're going to go ahead with your plan, to adjust the course of the Brotherhood so we accept that Gen 3's have their own consciousness, just as we do….it is a _monumental_ shift. I'd have more luck getting Liberty Prime to dance a jig…but if you do, then you have to walk your talk, mister. Sentinel." Vin looked pensive. "It's OK, Tess. Drop the formalities. What exactly are you getting at?" She put both armoured hands on his shoulders. "Be the father that Shaun sees you as. I know you're disturbed by his existence, I saw that when we got out of the Institute. I also saw that you didn't leave him behind. If you can't see him as your son, see him as your grandson. Your Shaun recreated himself as a boy. I know, I've had a hard time wrapping my head around the crazy logic of the Institute, too, but he really is a kid and you really are the closest thing in the world he has to family. Don't mess him up by pushing him away. We don't need the possibility of another twisted organisation. He has so much potential, Vincent! Guide him. Make sure he grows up sound, sane and strong."

The Sole Survivor nodded, thoughtfully, then added, "What if he doesn't? Grow, I mean? To my knowledge he's the only synth kid they made and I don't see the adult ones ageing. What if, emotionally and intellectually he grows up but is stuck in a kid's body still? That would cause psychological damage, surely?" Ingram shrugged. "Well, there's a conversation you need to have with people better qualified than me. Vincent, he needs to know what he is. It isn't fair. He's a bright kid, I think he knows something's up. Just…don't wait too long to figure this out." Vincent took a deep breath. A few people sprang to mind but the one he couldn't stop wondering about was MacCready.


	6. Knight Errant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to MacCready after Vincent was flown off in the vertibird. This chapter written entirely by banquos_ghost (title by TheArtOfBlossoming)

If this old bed could talk. I eyed the tatty old mattress. The tales it could tell would be plentiful, and sordid no doubt. The sheets had all been stripped away for washing, and with them any signs of Vin’s recent occupancy. And our little, well our little what… _thing?_. No, that wasn’t the right word. It was vague enough, but oh, I don’t know.

I turned away from the bed, fumbling to light yet another cigarette, the poster boy of anguished lovesick dreams. Just another role I was destined to play. And I did it so well. Well, I’d been studying the role long enough. Yet I still hadn’t faced the undeniable truth of my encounter with Vin. At that moment, Vin had needed me, wanted me. But afterwards? I took a reflective drag on my cigarette. I hadn’t even had the chance to speak to Vin before he had been whisked away.

My thoughts turned to my own escape. This vertibird was taking forever to come. I was going stir crazy in this tiny excuse for a settlement in the arse end of nowhere. I’d already been here what felt like several lifetimes.

I wouldn’t put it past those bastards to have completely forgotten about me. I was sick of the sight of John Somerville, and I was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. I didn’t want to help out on his godforsaken irradiated crops. I wanted to be back in the thick of it, the comings and goings, the buzz of the Castle or the hustle and bustle of Sanctuary Hills with its constant stream of Brahmin caravans.

I started at the sound of yelling. Almost as if summoned by my thoughts, I heard the sound of Brahmin lowing, a commotion. Must be the arrival of a trade caravan. A rare occurrence here at Somerville Place given its proximity to the Glowing Sea.

I went down to greet the caravan, jangling caps in my pockets. A few extra cigarettes wouldn’t go amiss. I’d been getting through them at one heck of a pace recently. _Since Vin had left._

I moseyed down to the cooking fire to meet the traders. Tales of woe spilling from their lips, an unfortunate encounter with a deathclaw had seen one of the caravan guards dead and the caravan vulnerable. ‘Hey, I wonder if you could…’ The enquiry in the trader’s voice coinciding with my own brainwave.

‘Tag along until you can get another guard? Sure…’ I jumped at the opportunity to get away.

I could feel John Somerville’s eyes boring into me.

‘What?’ I glared at him. ‘They need a guard… would you see them getting ambushed? When the vertibird _eventually_ shows I’m sure they’ll understand.’

John merely shrugged, none too thrilled at having to explain my absence. Well, tough luck. I’d got my ticket out of here and I was grabbing it with both hands. I’m sure Vin would totally understand that I’d needed to help these unfortunate traders. The fact that it would delay our meeting was an added bonus.

I went to pack my meagre belongings while the traders shared a meal and the Brahmin rested. That poor devil’s encounter with the deathclaw might not have been so good for him, but for me it was the break I needed. I’d be able to postpone seeing Vin for at least a week.

With my belongings packed I ate what was hopefully my last bowl of tasteless gruel courtesy of the Somervilles. Eager to be away (because it would be just my luck if the vertibird showed up before I left) I eyed the traders balefully, internally urging them to hurry the fuck up.

Of course, once we were clear of Somerville Place they could take their own sweet time to reach the next settlement, and the one after that, until we finally reached the final destination. Sanctuary Hills. Where they would employ another guard and I would no doubt meet Vin.


	7. Homemaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Sanctuary, Vin is getting really worried that something has happened to MacCready. A second vertibird was supposed to have brought him here by now...

Planks of wood, nails and tins of precious paint were everywhere. Vincent hammered the last nail into the section of doorframe he was working on and collapsed into the tatty old red armchair behind him. The place was taking shape. The roof now only leaked in one corner, you could no longer see through the walls (except for where the windows were _meant_ to be) and one room was entirely finished.

He leaned over to peek through the doorway at the cheerful yellow room, fitted with new furniture, brought out of storage weeks ago from Nora's Hope - Vault 88, decorated with posters of Grognak and The Unstoppables, stocked with toys that looked as if they'd never been played with. Duncan would love it.

The master bedroom was half-painted in what had come to be known as 'Wall Green'. Vin was under medical orders from Cade to stay at Sanctuary / Red Rocket for another few days yet. Physically, he felt great, full of energy again and raring to go but he was still being monitored for 'residual psycho-emotional variables'. Yeah, he knew, they just wanted to make sure he wasn't crazy. However, not being able to make the trip to Hardware Town to get more green paint meant that the unfinished room was driving him crazy anyway. He daren't ask anyone for a favour; they were still grieving over Mama Murphy and stewing over his decision to help her end her story. The less he thought about _that_ development, the better.

So, whilst Tess overhauled every bit of tech that could be found in Sanctuary, Vincent worked on his own project; restoring a house for MacCready and his son. It was the only way Vin could distract himself from worrying about his friend...and thinking about what their shared, intimate experience meant. If it meant anything at all.

The timescale for being officially 'overdue', according to the Brotherhood, was way too long for his liking. A Vertibird had been sent as soon as one became available but by the time it arrived, according to Mr. Somerville, MacCready had left 'on some job'. That's all the Scribe that had brought the message could say. Preston had tactfully queried MacCready's loyalty to the Minutemen and to the Brotherhood, though Vin sensed that he was looking for reassurance that the ex-Gunner would never rejoin them. Vincent's defensive reaction was to get uncharacteristically angry, something that he immediately regretted but it _did_ lead to Preston quietly admitting that he'd recognised the young sniper from Quincy, making Vin promise never to breathe a word of that to anyone.

MacCready wouldn't just leave. At least, that's what Vincent kept telling himself. As far as he knew, Mac didn't have a distress pulser and the little button chip that relayed information to the Vault-Tec Population Management terminal was useless since Vin hadn't installed one in Sanctuary and no-one else could use the darned things, being as they were keyed in to one user only. The moment he was free to go, Vincent would be off, looking for him. In the meantime, he needed to stay busy but out of Marcy and Jun's way. Sturges was understandably still upset but he'd approached Vin after the funeral, given him a sudden bearhug and muttered "I get it. Don't like it but we're cool, man. We're cool."

A caravan crossed the bridge just after sunset. Three figures sauntered around a laden Brahmin, steering it to the red tented caravan post just inside the town's boundary. Vin was working late, up on the roof, bending lead to seal the joins. He wished that he'd been old enough to pay more attention to what his Pop had tried to teach him about building. He straightened up to stretch his sore neck and spied the glow of a lit cigarette on the bridge. He followed the tiny reddish speck until the figure was suddenly illuminated by a streetlight. Vin skipped a breath. He'd know that hat anywhere. Unless he was seeing things now…

He downed tools and picked his way back to the scaffold tower. Ingram was over at Red Rocket, catching up with 'Dan'. She was in Vin's heart but not his mind at this moment. It was all MacCready. Vincent's thoughts raced ahead of his feet. _"When I catch up with that..that disobedient little smart-ass I'm going to…what the hell _are_ you going to do, Vin? Pretend like it never happened? Is he going to be awkward with me? Did he enjoy it or did it make him sick for fuck's sake what the motherdick am I thinking? Get professional, soldier. He went AWOL, he needs an undressing. Shit. I mean a dressing down. Shut up Vin, you're straight…and involved…and did I mention straight…?"_ Vincent rounded the corner and almost bumped into MacCready. They just stood there, wordlessly for a full minute, then Mac reached out an arm, Vin took it and took himself by surprise by pulling the smaller man into a lingering hug. Whilst Mac couldn't see his face, Vin said quietly into his ear, "Had me worried there, Mac. Did I fuck up? Are we good?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to atomicreactor on Tumblr for the headcanon about Preston seeing Mac at Quincy, thanks for permission to use it!  
> One particular curse word has been used in reference to the character Abraham from The Walking Dead, by whom Vin's creation was inspired. Especially his magnificent 'stache. ;)


	8. Never in a Million Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Red Rocket, Piper, Danse (now known as 'Diesel Dan'), Codsworth and Shaun carry on as normal whilst Vincent recovers in Sanctuary.  
> Written by TheArtOfBlossoming

Piper shoved a few belongings in a bag, two fresh pens in the back of her glove and a battered, full notepad into her coat. Shaun looked at her with big eyes. "Why won't you take me with you?" Piper gave a frustrated sigh. "Look, buddy, we've been over this a zillion times already Drop it, OK? Your Poppa will take you to Diamond City one of these days. You guys will have an awesome, father-son bonding roadtrip. Better'n tagging along with a smelly old Brahmin. Anyhoo….did you finish that letter to Nat? She'll be expecting it ('and I don't want to have to put up with one of her tantrums', Piper thought to herself). Shaun ran off and was back in a moment clutching a burnt Grognak magazine and a clean, folded sheet of paper. He thrust it at Piper. "Finished! I proofread it too, before I wrote anything down." Piper raised an eyebrow. "Weeell, that's…uh…that's great, Shaun!" 

She heard a voice call her name outside and ruffled the kid's hair. "See you round, kiddo." Shaun pouted. "Stay here with me, then? We can make a robo-press! he whined" Piper shook her head. "Gotta get the next issue printed up. You know that, kiddo." 

She walked out of the Red Rocket door and almost bumped into Danse. "Whoopsie! Hey, you great walking wall, mind outta the way! Gotta go now." Piper pointed a thumb over her shoulder. "Make sure he eats his tatoes, 'Uncle Dan'. " Danse stared at Piper. "Of course. Stay vigilant out there." Piper smiled. "Yessiree. Oh…if that skinny, lazy, stupid-hat-wearing runt shows up, tell him….tell him I said…oh, never mind." Danse stepped in front of her, deliberately. "If you're asking me to let you know if the Knight-Major returns safely, I'll get a message to you. Don't worry, I'm sure the delay is purely logistical. We…the Brotherhood, I mean, have a limited squadron of vertibirds. He'll be safe whilst he waits to be retrieved." Piper frowned. _"Never mind,"_ she repeated and tried to walk around him. Danse shifted his weight to block her retreat. "Shall I also tell him that you wish to initiate a ro…" Danse didn't finish because Piper thumped him on the arm, wriggled past him and stormed out. 

He smirked as he watched her go. Even the Sentinel's 'Mr. Handy' had remarked on the journalist's unspoken fascination with MacCready.


	9. The Truth Will Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready's return brings revelations...for both of them.

_’Fuck up?’_ I stepped back from Vin’s embrace. I’d rehearsed this moment in my mind numerous times while traipsing alongside the swaying Brahmin, and this was one scenario that hadn’t occurred to me. An apology. I had been expecting to have some explaining to do for wasting time by not being there for that vertibird. Vin had worried about me? I eyed him hesitantly, still slightly dubious about the sincerity of his apologies. He was obviously feeling discomfort, surely he wasn’t still thinking about our little moment of intimacy back in Somerville Place? Just because I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, I’d not had the audacity to assume it would mean anything at all to Vin.

"Let's...ah..let's talk in private." Vincent led MacCready towards The Tree, behind which stood one of the ruined houses in a state of transformation. New wooden walls, glass panels and a leaded roof encapsulated the old. Vin opened the fresh-painted green door onto a homely interior. He gestured for Mac to sit on the pristine red sofa, sat in the aged red armchair opposite and proffered an open box of cigars. "Better than those bitter sticks o' tortoise crap. Seriously, try one?" Would MacCready take the peace offering for what it was? "Well, shit, this is awkward."

Sitting down on a luxurious sofa, inside a clean and decorated house after a week spent looking at a brahmin’s arse added to the surreal feeling. Just what was going on here? It was good to see Vin looking so healthy, a huge contrast from when I’d last seen him, but what if he wasn’t fully recovered on the inside yet? What if all this cloak and dagger stuff was proof of that? Few places in the Commonwealth had the luxury of complete privacy, but this renovated house with its sturdy walls and doors that actually worked had the effect of blanking out the world, leaving Vin and I eyeing each other. I took one of the cigars that Vin was offering. I fumbled to light it, the damn thing kept catching and then petering out. ‘You gonna show me how to light this thing or just watch me all day?’ I glanced at Vin, who was puffing away on his own cigar. 

"Here." Vin took the cigar, lit it easily as breathing and handed it back to MacCready. He didn't meet Mac's blue eyes, though. "Thankyou. Thanks for looking after me. You really went above and beyond the call of duty, there. I mean...fuck it. I don't know how to say this." Vin went red, even in the glow of the slow burning tip of his stogie. "Did I...did I ask too much of you? Y'know. When I needed...uh...damn it. Say something, Mac!"

I puffed on the cigar reflectively. So… what Vin had asked of me wasn’t standard pre-war procedure. Interesting. Vin was as capable of embarrassment as I was. He had obviously been working himself up into this state about the whole thing. I smiled at him, met his eyes properly for the first time since our awkward encounter on the bridge. ‘Vin, you know you could never ask too much of me. If you want to forget it ever happened… then fine.’ I decided to push my luck. Why the heck not. ‘…And, if you fancy a repeat performance any time or you want to return the favour then that’s just fine too.’

Vincent choked on smoke. Had MacCready just...flirted with him? No, it was more than that. "Is that what you want, Mac? I have to be honest with you here, I'm way outside my comfort zone....but I've never felt _this close_ to a guy before. Hell, am I confused right now! I just didn't want to lose my best friend. Really thought I'd screwed things up between us. Can't blame it on the fever, either...really did need my, er, shotgun pumpin'. I was busting." Vin raised his eyebrows so far that his forehead looked like he screwed his hats on. "You really OK with this? I mean, do you _want_ more from me than just friendship? C'mon Mac, I don't believe for a second that casual is your style." Vincent's heart was thumping in his chest. Had he just invited Mac into a 'best friends with benefits' situation? Was this going to screw their working partnership? The last thing either of them needed when out in the field was distraction. Vincent needed to be crystal clear on this and was willing to consider at least returning the favour. Just once, mind you. Just the once.

Vin was obviously suffering, dying a thousand deaths of embarrassment. The last thing I wanted to do was to tease him or cause more discomfort to him. ‘Look Vin,’ I puffed on the cigar for emphasis. It was rather good, I could get used to it, ‘Look Vin, please don’t let this come between us. Do I _like_ you? Sure I do, but I can see that you’re not comfortable with the whole idea. So, why not forget about it for now, and let’s just hang out, enjoy some down time and see what happens.’ I felt strangely empowered. I was the one putting Vin at ease, or trying to. I don’t know why he had to act like the thing was some sort of _big deal_ anyway.

Vin rubbed at his moustache thoughtfully. "See Mac, that's the thing. I've tried and I _can't_ just forget about it. I gotta be honest with you, man. I...well...I know I was sick and all but..." Vincent's voice sank to a whisper as he looked away, chewing his cigar. "I fuckin' enjoyed it." Vincent ran his fingers through his auburn hair, scratched the back of his head and sat there fidgeting, not meeting Mac's gaze. After a short awkward silence, he spoke up again. "How are you so laid back about this, anyway? Is this a regular thing these days? 'Cause it sure wasn't back in the day. Great, now I sound like an old fart. You gotta understand Mac, things like this happened, sure, but it was all a big drama if folks found out. It wasn't how people were 'supposed' to be. Man, wife, picket fence and two point five kids. I'm no fool, love isn't neat and tidy like that. Shit. Say somethin' Mac. Stop me runnin' my mouth off again, will ya? This is hard enough…"

I was still trying to process Vin’s comments. He _enjoyed_ it? What was I supposed to say to that once I’d suppressed my innate sarcasm? Somehow, it didn’t seem appropriate in this situation. Vin was obviously still pretty distressed and the last thing I wanted to do was take advantage of that. And then there was his equally interesting choice of words… if I’d heard him right. He’d definitely said ‘ _Love_ isn’t neat and tidy’, I was pretty sure that’s what he said. _Love?_. How had things moved so fast from a quick roll in the hay to the ‘L’ word. I could feel the warmth radiating from my cheeks, they must be as crimson as Vin’s by now. I cleared my throat, ‘Vin, I’m not laid back. Far from it…. I just, err, didn’t think you felt that way about me. I’m, well, now I don’t know what to say.’ I continued puffing furiously on the cigar, anything to avoid saying something else that I might regret later.

Vincent saw Mac's face flushing red and felt his own cheeks glow. "Heh. Like I said, I'm real confused. Never felt this close to a guy before. I just...I just want to keep you safe. You and Duncan." Vincent sat there, staring at his hands, unsure of how to say what he was really feeling. This awkward conversation was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

I choked back another reflex remark, wanting to interject I could keep myself safe, _thank you very much_. But, my big mouth didn’t betray me this time, my stomach lurched under the deluge of emotions too extreme for me to handle. ‘Thanks, Vin.’ Not much of a reply, but hopefully Vin could see I was sincere. 

"Well....I should...I should go. Give you some space, let you settle in. I hope its okay. I'll come back tomorrow and finish the kitchen for you. It'll be a few days before I can get a 'bird here so as you can go and fetch l'il MacDunc. If...if that's what you want to do?" “Wait, what, Vin are you serious?’ My jaw must have hit the floor, but Vin was nodding, deadly serious. ‘This house? And get Duncan? Oh Vin..’ All awkwardness forgotten I reached over and gathered Vin up in an almighty bear hug. Vincent grinned, the most open expression of joy that Mac had ever seen on him. He held him close and muttered, "I take it that means you like it, then? You haven't even seen Duncan's room yet." Vincent pushed Mac gently away so that he could see his face. "So...you...you feel...close, too? I mean, do you..." The word he wanted to say just wouldn't be formed, blocked by walls of centuries old taboo and assumed self-image. Like most walls in this world though, they too had begun to crumble. "I need to know exactly how you feel about me, Mac. I need one of us to be clear on this and it ain't me, pal. Aww, shit, I really should just go…" ‘No… wait..’ My hand clutched feebly on Vin’s sleeve, I didn’t want him to leave. I didn’t want to end this embrace. I wasn’t sure myself how I felt about Vin. Certainly not sure enough to articulate it in _words_. Words when he was this close felt redundant. 

I could smell the cigar on his breath, the scent of his hair, and the glint of the sun on the fine reddy golden hairs on his arm was mesmerising. The physical proximity was overwhelming, those emotions I’d been barely containing swirling around inside me, my stomach churning. My fingers started to trace those fine hairs on his arm, and Vin just stood there. My fingers trembled, any moment now he was going to break away, tell me this was all a big mistake. He didn’t though, he just stood there, encouraged by his stillness I dared to look directly into his eyes, even though I knew the minute my eyes met his I’d want to feel his lips on mine. 

Who kissed who first? I really don’t know. One moment our eyes were fixed on each other, the next they were closed, and my mouth was exploring his, as naturally and easily as if we’d been lovers for years. 

Vincent took a deep, steadying breath. A hand caressed his arm, so gently. The scent that had comforted him when he had been in so much pain surrounded him again now. Those beautiful, almond-shaped blue eyes, so full of experience and deep emotion. Somehow, suddenly, surprisingly soft lips touched his along with the new sensation of another's facial hair mingling with his own. There was no denying that his question had been answered. Mac loved him. Vin kissed back harder, started to steer him away from the corner window and toward the half-painted bedroom. 

And it happened, it really happened. Vin was kissing me back, those endless hours, dreaming what it would be like, fantasising about this moment. Maybe I thought they would have prepared me. They didn’t. Vin’s lips on mine were so hungry, so demanding. My heart raced, I submitted to him, as he pushed me into the bedroom. I felt my blood pound in my ears, as I stumbled backwards, falling against the bed, onto the bed. Still Vin pressed against me, and still a tiny doubt in the back of my mind. He would stop. He would… have second thoughts. Cool air against my chest as Vin removed my shirt, and his warm hands, snaking up my back, then moving down over my sides, before raking through my hair. His breath rasped in my ear as his kisses trailed down my neck, my eyes shut, overwhelmed with need, relief, and at the very corner of my mind… concern. Concern which was rapidly evaporating as my body’s instincts took over. Vin and I a clumsy mess of bare skin, roaming hands and need. Garments being shed, months of pent up frustration and lust finding outlet in skin against skin. 

The belt-buckle had been easy but when Vin had tried to pull down Mac's left trouser leg, it got caught by his thigh bandolier. He fussed with it for a moment, long enough to interrupt the instinctive momentum and let the nagging thoughts and doubts creep back into his mind. _'What're you doing, Vin? Thought I was straight as a yardstick yet here I am struggling to get a man's pants off quick. Don't panic. I'm only repaying a debt here, one jerkoff repaying another.…so why do I want to kiss the goofball all over?'_ He became aware that Mac was staring expectantly down at him, so he turned his attention to freeing the bandolier again, tipping forward as he did so. _'Oh crap. Now I'm headbutting his junk. Can't shift this damn thing.'_ MacCready's hand reached down and with sleight of hand, undid the thing in a second. The trousers slid down his legs as he slid his fingers into the short hair at the nape of Vincent's neck. Goosebumps. Vin looked up at Mac with an expression of concern. "Just so we're clear, shit-chute's off limits. Got that?"

_Way to ruin the moment, Vin_ my unspoken thought, my audible response a noise of agreement accompanied by a nodding head. Better Vin say now I suppose than some sort of faux pas or awkward moment later when things got _more heated._ No neat piles of clothing this time. Half-folded garments lay strewn on the floor. Vincent leaned back on the comfy pillows and drew Mac to sit in front, leaning back on his chest. Vin leaned forward and breathed the scent of MacCready's soft neck, running his hand slowly, cautiously down the younger man's chest, waist, belly until he brushed the only part standing to attention. Vincent took his hand away suddenly, licked his thumb and very gently returned it, holding him hesitantly, caressing the tip with his wet thumb, feeling himself stiffen and press into MacCready's back as he started to slowly, slowly pump.

I could barely breathe, scared any sudden movement now would result in Vin running for the hills. Yet here we were, my back resting on his warm chest. His ‘tache tickling my neck….and his hand wrapped around my cock. No chance of holding my breath back now. My feelings of disbelief and wonder were still whirling around my head, but the feel of Vin’s hand, the slow steady rhythm were driving all other thoughts from my head. My stomach lurched, in sensual excitement and I shut my eyes, my head pushed back against Vin, and his mouth still planting hungry kisses on my neck. At this rate I was not going to last any great length of time, I tried to disassociate myself slightly, pointlessly, Vin was just too damn good at this.

Vincent placed one more kiss on the edge of Mac's ear. He couldn't go any slower but he knew how to draw it out and so spoke in a low voice: "If I could take you back in time with me, I'd show you so many things. A landscape of green tinged with the orange and yellow of fall. Hubris comics in its heyday when people queued around the block to get their copy of Grognak signed by the visiting illustrator, each shelf loaded with stacks of comics, rare ones too like Mermaniac and Adventures of Atomcat. I'd sit you on the back of my gleaming red Lone Wanderer motorbike and we'd zoom along pristine highways, up into the hills. I'd take you flying in an aeroplane, landing on a warm beach by a turquoise sea," he continued sensually massaging, letting his fingers stray a little to brush the hairy root of MacCready's pleasure. "If I could...but I'm here, right now. Is this alright? Your turn to lead. Tell me what to do, Mac." The soft, hungry kisses resumed.

The soft timbre of Vin’s voice was hypnotic and soothing. I eased back into his embrace. It felt reassuring, safe and arousing all at the same time. It felt like home. The dreams, the visions of the past Vin were describing filled my mind with a thousand pictures, fragmented sensations and colours. Simultaneously his caresses continued, and his voice faded to a pleasant hum as my mind was lost to the rhythm of his strokes, and then my name and his request. My strangled reply, ‘Just don’t stop Vin… whatever you do don’t stop’ and I surrendered to his expert hands.

Vincent gradually increased the intensity until he felt Mac shudder and release. He didn't move, didn't speak, bathed in the moist heat of the naked man laying on top of him. MacCready seemed more relaxed than Vin had ever known him. A little awkward, since he himself was now reluctantly aroused without resolution. He waited for Mac to say or do something. _Anything_. But no. Had he gone to sleep? His breathing was steady and soft now. He must be asleep. Or maybe this was one of those times when seconds seemed like minutes. He'd paid his debt, returned the favour, all square again. Except that he wanted Mac to....no. That mustn't happen. What about... "Tess. Oh sh..." Too late, he realised he'd said her name out loud. If Mac had heard, he'd be hurt. You just don't blurt out someone else's name afterwards. 'Even if you do love them both,' his heart added before his mind could intervene. Vincent caught sight of a patch of grime on Mac's shoulder that the flannel hadn't caught and wiped it away with the sheet. C'mon Mac. "You awake, bud?" Vincent asked softly.

Maybe I’d nodded off for a moment there. Maybe I’d been dreaming, or was it all real? Vin and me, naked in the bed. The damp patch on the sheet told its own story. Vin was still holding me, still soft and gentle, not shying away and awkward. But still, I could kid myself I’d been dreaming all I wanted but I knew I heard it. ‘Tess…’. All the things Vin really wanted, in that name. And me? What was I to Vin? A diversion, a mistake? _Shit._ I could hardly ruin the moment by firing questions at him like a minigun. I took the coward’s option. The easy way out. Pretending to sleep. Not wanting to end this moment, not wanting reality creeping in through the partially decorated doors. Not while Vin was still holding me. I didn’t want him to stop. Not yet. What if he never started again, what if this was a one-time only deal? Tit-for-tat. Payback for my little favour to him at Somerville Place.

Vincent held him close. Thinking Mac was sleeping, he allowed himself to voice, or at least whisper, his thoughts and feelings, something he was never comfortable sharing when the listener could reply. It didn't matter how much armour he wore, he knew just how wounding words could be. "Oh Mac, I think I might have gone and fallen in love with you, too. Didn't know I had it in me to feel this way about a guy but...of all the friends and allies I've made, you are the one I miss the most when we're apart. I do love her but...shit. I don't know what to do. Just wanna be with you." Vin risked placing a kiss on the back of Mac's head, leaned his own head back and sighed, trying to calm his racing heart.

As I heard Vin’s words it was all I could do not to sit bolt upright in the bed and quiz Vin further on his revelations. My heart was racing. How could Vin not hear it pounding in my chest? My mind raced as fast as my heart. _What could I do, what should I do?_ As I lay there deliberating time was passing, crawling imperceptibly. I had no idea how much time had passed since Vin’s softly spoken revelations. In fact, from the steady rise and fall of Vin’s chest, it was entirely possible that _he_ had fallen asleep while I took my time pondering. I allowed myself to relax. I moved slowly and deliberately into position beside Vin. He was asleep. I was 99% sure. I lay next to him. I felt relaxed, happy. Vin had fallen in love with me. I was in love with him. In true Vin style though, nothing was ever going to be simple. The man seemed determined to find barriers to everything, and if he couldn’t find them he’d damn well create some of his own. I sighed. This was more than I’d hoped for. On the long trek back from Somerville Place my brain had been full of scenarios. Most of them full of Vin’s rejection and my stoic declarations that I was happy to be _just_ his friend. And nothing else. Yet here we were. Naked in bed together. So, with my glass half-full for once I allowed myself to drift off to sleep for real this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find an illustration appropriate to this chapter by TheArtOfBlossoming here:  
> http://theartofblossoming.tumblr.com/post/156819561399/vincent-and-maccready


	10. Gentle Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This could just be the beginning of something beautiful...and another mission to fetch green paint!

Dawn broke. A dawn without songbirds, without the usual sound of the first car engines being fired up for the early commute. A mist filtered sunbeam woke Vincent, though he didn't open his eyes. A warm bed with clean smelling sheets touched with a whiff of musk, gentle breath in his ear and warm, naked skin next to his. Whiskers tickled his muscular shoulder which confused him for a split second, then he smiled as he remembered when and where he was...and in bed with whom. He turned his head as he opened his eyes to see Mac, still caught in slumber. They say that you see a person's true face when they are asleep. His was beautiful, serene, his youth erasing most of the worry lines that he wore daily. Vincent felt so much love for this man who had risked his life many times over, following the Sentinel General. This man who had shown his honour and integrity when he repaid his hiring fee and continued to prove his loyalty. This good looking giant nerd who remembered what it was to be childlike, even when adulthood had been forced early upon him. Vin felt privileged to fight by his side...though the only thing they'd be attacking today would be the decorating.

I sensed the sunlight on my eyes before I opened them. Sure enough, when my eyes flicked open the brightness caused me to shut them again, as soon as I opened them. And I’d seen Vin. In that briefest of time I’d taken in his expression as he gazed at me. Benign… _loving?_. Certainly not a trace of shame or regret. I squinted at him, just to make sure. Yes, he was looking… happy. ‘Good morning, Vin…’ I wanted to say more, so much more. Plenty of time for that later. _Play it cool, Mac, play it cool._ I almost laughed at my own internal dialogue. _Play it cool? There was about as much likelihood of that as me flying to the moon._. ‘So… what’s the plan for today, Boss?’ I looked at him expectantly. Calling him Boss while I was still lying naked beside him, yes, I was certainly playing it cool all right. Vin erupted in a bellylaugh. "Boss? Not in bed, I'm not!" He couldn't help but give Mac the biggest grin. "Since I'm stuck here, shall we get this place finished? Well...almost finished. I ran out of green." Vin paused. "Um...I'm still naked, aren't I? Pass me my pants?

I was still naked too, but I couldn’t care less about it. If Vin didn’t want me eyeballing him then he could lie back and look at me as much as he liked. Privacy was a rare commodity these days and modesty an affectation few could afford. I swung my feet out of the bed and scooped up Vin’s clothes from the various places they had fallen last night and threw them towards him playfully. ‘There you go Vin. I promise not to look…’ I lied. From behind a hand with finger gaps wide enough for a panoramic view I gazed on Vin as he struggled into his rumpled clothes. I wanted to trace the lines of the scar snaking up his torso, kiss his tattoos. I refrained, for now. The decorating had to be done. And I needed to pull my own clothes on, get a wash, deal with all the mundane crap that was pressing in now the outside world was stirring.

Vincent stole sideways glances at the wiry, naked younger man as he dressed. Mac was standing there, one hand loosely over his eyes, showing off every bruise, small scar and long, laser burn mark. At least, those that had recently had a cursory meeting with a damp cloth. "Stay put Mac, I just need to do something." Vincent ran to the kitchen, filled a large pot with water and put it on the stove. He filled three more pots and a kettle, chipped out some old instant coffee from an unused (but still two centuries old) tin and when the first water was hot, started filling the bath. He took Mac his coffee, produced an unread Unstoppables comic from his back pocket with a flourish and dashed off again, taking Mac's grimy, travel-stained clothes with him. A few minutes later, after much sploshing, he returned to the bedroom, grabbed Mac in a fireman's lift, all the while with a big grin on his face and dumped him messily in the warm tub before he could protest. Vin's clothes were soaked from the splashdown but he started to rub soap all over MacCready, whose face by this point was the image of a sodden, grumpy cat. "You missed a bit," Vin smiled sidelong at him, "there, between your face and your.." Vin gestured at his privates.

I felt as my face contorted into a glare. Why did Vin have to go and do that to me, why? I made a conscious effort to re-arrange my features into something resembling a smile, though it was probably more of a grimace. When Vin started gesturing to my ‘missed bits’ I suspect the grimace became a genuine grin. Time to make Vin a little uncomfortable. I gazed into Vin’s eyes…’You mean _you_ missed a bit…?’ Taking the soap from Vin I made a small show of soaping myself in what I hoped was an erotic manner. I felt a bit silly, but glancing sidelong I could see that Vin was watching all right, a soft flush suffused his cheeks. ‘Next time Vin, I’ll let you finish what you started…’ I sloshed the now cloudy water over the soap to rinse and rose from the tub, grabbed a towel and with as much dignity as I could muster stalked from the room and dragged some clean clothes over my damp limbs. Vin was stood in the doorway, still looking at me. ‘So, you said something about green paint? You want me to go fetch some from Hardware Town? Do you think they’ll be any there still?’ I fired my questions at Vin without pause. The truth was, I really didn’t want to leave him now we’d come to some sort of understanding. It was obvious Vin wasn’t up to the journey to go and get the paint, so it would mean another parting. It was too soon. I was worried once I was out of sight he’d be having second thoughts again.

"Sturges said he'd be up for going with some of the green recruits but they'd need a sniper to watch their backs. Listen," Vin came up close behind Mac and wrapped his arms around him in a slow, slightly awkward but sincere embrace. "There's plenty of paint to mix. Don't get any on you though, I just got you clean." He nosed into Mac's shoulder and inhaled his scent. "I don't know why this feels right. It just does. Robert. You take care of yourself, alright? Lemme fix us a good big breakfast. Sooner you go, the sooner you'll get back, right?"

‘All right _Vincent_ , sounds good…I’m starving…’ I smirked. I wasn’t going to let him get away with calling me _Robert_ even if things had changed between us and he was offering up a badly needed delicious meal. My impending absence was still bothering me, and whilst a distraction was welcome as the arrival of the vertibird wasn’t going to be instantaneous, it still didn’t feel quite right. But then again, Vin was the boss, Vin had given me this house and was bringing me my son. The least I could do was bring him some tins of paint.

‘I suppose I can make the trip, just so long as you promise not to move from here while I’m gone.’ I still wasn’t entirely happy about leaving, so many worries in my mind. What if Vin hadn’t been serious about this house being for me and Duncan? What if he forgot to arrange the vertibird without me around to hound him? Shit, all I wanted to do was see Duncan again, and getting this paint was the last thing on my mind. Fuck it. I had to know.

‘Err, Vin, err, the vertibird… I won’t miss it while I’m away will I?’ I tried to act nonchalant, rather than being an impatient asshole. I’m not quite sure I’d carried it off. This was too important for misunderstandings.

"What's up, Mac? You seem...I don't know. 'Tetchy' is the word my Gran used to use. Is it 'cause I called you 'Robert'? I was trying to be, you know, more personal but if you prefer me to call you something else, just let me know. Bob? Robby? Bert? RJ? Bobby Jo? Seriously man, you've never even told me what to call you besides Mac or MacCready and I thought we knew each other pretty well. As for the Vertibird, you think it would stand a Knight-Major up, let alone the Sentinel? Look, " Vin took Mac's hands in his. "Getting Duncan here is a priority. I ordered the 'bird already. If you hadn't got here it would have taken me to find you, even against Cade's strong recommendations I stay here. I go no further than between one eleven and Red Rocket, okay?" Vincent searched Mac's eyes for a moment. "I meant what I said even though I surprised myself when I said it. I love you, Robert Joseph MacCready."

I looked at Vin, startled. An automatic response tripped from my dry mouth, ‘I love you too, Vin.’ So quiet. Almost a whisper. I spoke the next line louder, discordantly strident after my soft declaration of love. ‘Just call me Mac. It’s not what you call me, it’s the way you call me it.’ I laid my hand on Vin’s arm gently. ‘Now, what about this breakfast you promised me? I’m gonna need to keep my energy up to go fetch this paint. I just hope Duncan still likes green.’ 

All too soon, breakfast was eaten and the time for parting had arrived. Sturges was waiting awkwardly with his motley crew of raw recruits, and I stepped up to say goodbye to Vin. I was curious whether he would acknowledge me in public, maybe he still had the heebie-jeebies about the whole thing. I was happy either way, _he loved me_ , he’d told me himself, face to face, eye to eye. That was good enough for me. We didn’t need to broadcast it to the whole world.

Vincent stepped up, shook the recruits by the hand wishing all three good luck, a fuller shoulder-patting arm-shake for Sturges and then he paused at Mac. A moment later and Vin wrapped Mac up in a full-on bear hug. "Keep these guys safe, okay? Bring back as much paint and supplies as you can and be back before nightfall. Lightning quick, now. Dismissed." He caught Sturges by the elbow and said "Do me a favor and watch his back for me while mine's still healin' up." Sturges tipped his head in a sideways nod and said, "I got his back, don't you worry none. Want anythin' besides paint, Vin?" "Couple of brushes? Turpentine if you find any and one of your stories when you get back." Sturges smiled. He had no end of 'mechanics tales'. "Sure thing." He fished something out of his coveralls pocket. "Oh, go take this doodad over to Tess, should help fix up her rig just fine." Vincent took the small contraption, glad of an excuse to speak to Tess alone and waved the party off, watching until that green hat disappeared from view.


	11. Just Deserts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst Mac is away, Vin needs to face Ingram with the truth. Why is love so complicated?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter written solely by TheArtOfBlossoming.

Red Rocket. Vin had a momentary memory of bringing his beloved Lone Wanderer here for a service and meeting a group of friendly bikers. He remembered chatting with the big old burly fellow…Ike, wasn't it? Mostly, he recalled feeling at ease, the smell of fresh coffee and music on the jukebox. Only one of those things applied now, Betty Hutton's 'It's a Man' almost concealing the sound of Tess and Dan's conversation.

He entered to find both standing at the counter, wearing their power armour as comfortably as a second skin, drinking beer and flicking through one of Vin's salvaged magazines. "Hey, Dan, mind if get Tess all to myself for a minute?" Danse clapped him on the shoulder and nodded. "Of course, brother." He turned to Tess, "It was good to see you, Gertrude. Thankyou for your assistance." Gertrude 'Tess' Ingram smiled as he stomped out of the room. "He seems better. Hard to tell under the habitual formalities but I think it's doing him good to be here." Vincent nodded. "Yeah. It's rough finding that something you believed about yourself isn't true. Look, Tess, I need to talk to you. Let's go in the back and sit." Tess went through the garage rollerdoor and Vin closed it behind them as she climbed out of her rig. She shuffled over to sit on one of the plush red sofas. Vincent sat facing her, silently, unsure how to start.

"Come on, man, spit it out." Vin held his head low and looked up at her. "Well…first off I need to make one thing clear. I love you, Tess. I have no intentions of ever marrying again, that's something precious I shared with Nora and I can't…I couldn't do that again…but I need you to know I'm sincere." Ingram gazed at him compassionately. "There's something else." Vin paused, his voice softening. "I've fallen in love with someone else and the last thing I want to do is hurt either of you. I just…I've never been in this situation before, not from this angle anyhow. My first girlfriend cheated on me so I know exactly how it feels. I just needed to be honest with you Tess. Whatever you decide, I'll respect."

Ingram looked intensely at him for a moment, which made Vin nervous again. Honestly, even the butterflies in his stomach had mutated into some hideous, threatening foe. Then she did something which nuked them. She smiled. "It's MacCready, isn't it?" Vincent just stared, slack-jawed. "Hey, good for you. Finally! It isn't generally approved of within the ranks (same gender pairing, all play and no procreation) but we all need servicing as much as the Prydwen does. Besides, you've earned the right, Sentinel." Ingram cocked her head to one side, frowning. "Vin. Vincent. Is there a Deathclaw behind me or something? Why the face?"

Vincent took control of his features and fumbled for words. "Um…not the reply I was expecting. You're not hurt? Mad at me?"

"No, should I be? Look, I've enough pre-war knowledge to tell you that relationships aren't what they were. We're Brotherhood, that comes first and foremost. Do I love you? Hell, yes and don't you forget it! There isn't much room for sentimentality nowadays, though. Nor for jealousy and personally, I don't see the point. Never did understand the old phrase 'you belong to me.' People aren't property. Sometimes I forget that your frame of reference is two centuries outta date. Besides, I can't be there to watch your back out there so I'm glad the Knight-Major has extra incentive to do just that."

Vincent blew out a huge sigh of relief. "I need a smoke. You're really okay with this?" Ingram smirked. "Yeah, I've another love too." Vin scowled. "The _Prydwen_ , Vinnie." He frowned. "Don't call me that, you know I don't like it." Tess smirked. "I'll use all the weapons at my disposal to tease you if I have to, Sir." "Minx!" Vin got up and crossed to the sofa where she sat, knelt on the ground and took her face in his hands. They kissed, gently, playfulness abandoned and he held her to him, cradling her head with its ever-tousled hair. Ingram spoke in a low voice, "You deserve all the love this wreck of a world has to offer you, Vincent and then it still wouldn't repay you for all you've done. Be with whoever you need to, you'll always have a place by me."


	12. Rhys in Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why is Knight L. Rhys such a crosspatch?   
> Chapter solely by TheArtOfBlossoming

The terminal flickered and died _again_. Knight Rhys beat his fist on the desk, picked up the old desk lamp and hurled it against the wall, breaking it and knocking a chunk of plaster off the wall. He yelled at the Initiate who was unfortunate enough to be passing at the time: "Get me another damn fuse from the store. Now!" The young man saluted fist to chest and hurried off. Rhys couldn't help but emit a wordless bark of rage, causing Haylen to hurry over.

"Knight Rhys, shh…" she lowered her voice. "I'm going to have to report this outburst to Knight-Captain Cade. It's the second time this week and you can't afford to be charged with disorderly conduct again. You need something to calm you down, Leonard. I'm worried about you."

Rhys let his habitual scowl fade and Haylen saw something desperate in his eyes that troubled her more than his anger. He spoke in a way that unnerved her, as if he were this close to crazy. "I'm applying for a transfer, Haylen." His expression closed up again as the Initiate brought him the part. He got on with fixing the old tech without a word but Haylen was used to these sudden, deep silences of his and went back to her work.

Later that evening, they stole a little private time up on the station roof.

Rhys sat down heavily, the bearing of a man defeated, not a victorious Brotherhood Knight. Haylen sat close by, just near enough to reach out and place a tentative hand on his shoulder…but she wouldn't. He seemed to hate that, being touched. So, she looked toward him but did not stare him in the eye. He was like a frightened animal, timid yet dangerous.

"Can I do anything for you, Knight?" she ventured. Rhys shook his head, then hid his face in his hands. A moment later he'd pulled himself up, face expresssionless and his posture a little too calibrated. "I'm transferring to the Castle." Haylen knew what this meant. It meant leaving the Brotherhood proper to join the Minutemen, a clear demotion in the eyes of the brothers and sisters of Steel. It meant becoming _civilian militia_ with no turning back. The two organisations may have banded together for the common good and share a commanding officer in the form of Sentinel-General Vincent Hudson but it was still early days for this alliance. The top brass were still hammering out the details. Haylen couldn't believe what she'd just heard.

"You're _leaving_ us? How could…why?"

"Do I really have to spell it out for you, Haylen? I tried telling you before. That I was committed to…the Brotherhood. I… I've always loved…him. I can't stop, even though I know what he is. I tried, believe me. It goes against _everything_ I believe but…you were right. He was…is…a person. I've been so angry at myself for these feelings but they're destroying me inside." Rhys' tears would no longer hold their positions and quietly poured forth, the seige of his heart finally lost. "I have to go. Have to find him and risk telling him. I expect rejection. In that case I'll help as many as I can before I die but…if there's a chance.…if he…if we…" Rhys failed to finish the thought. Silent tears flowed stoically. Haylen inched her hand closer to Rhys'. He noticed the movement and gripped her hand, briefly, before pulling away, standing and striding to the lookout post. "That's confidential information, Scribe," he barked without looking at her. Haylen's eyes glistened as she allowed herself a small smile, for him. The grumpy bastard was her best friend, after all. There was a chance, albeit a small one, that she'd had the missing component to Danse's heart with her all along.

***

Danse opened the envelope slowly and withdrew the folded paper within. As careful as he was, the creases were wearing holes in the ancient paper and the corners were dog-eared. By the light of the brazier, as he sat on his sleeping bag, he let his eyes roam over the bold handwriting. A crowd of Bobbleheads grinned inanely down at him as he read.

_Dear S._ (very few knew that Danse's first name was Saul) __

I know you're out there still. I won't try to find you unless there's a real need. I won't lie, your situation horrifies me and I'm still struggling with the reality of it. It's a goddam nightmare. Wouldn't wish it on anyone but it happened…to you. Why did it have to be you?

I have a confession to make, about my behaviour. I know I have a reputation as a grumpy, short-tempered son of a be-atch but there's one good reason for it. I could never express myself. Hell, writing this ain't much easier. I have always had feelings I was not at liberty to express. This is threatening to destroy me, like a crack in a mini-nuke casing.

I'm leaving the Brotherhood. I can no longer reconcile my heart with my mind, nor hold my anger in check so I'm forced to choose, even if that risks losing everything. Even if that risks losing the hope of you.

I love you. Romantically. Always have. Never knew how to tell you. So there it is. Look for me among Minutemen if you feel anything for me. L.

Danse held the letter briefly to his lips and whispered, "I wish you'd told me sooner." He hoped that Piper would hurry to deliver his reply. He would set off for the Atom Cats' first thing in the morning and hope to run into the requested Minutemen patrol, hope to see a smile on that stone grouch of a face, finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what it is about Danse but he's always struck me as gay. I needed to find him someone who needs just as much love as he does. Boy do these guys bottle it all up!


	13. Lucky for Some

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac returns and sweeps Vin off his feet. Sorta.

The sun sank, leaving Sanctuary overlit with gentle pink clouds. There was a knock on the door and Vin sprang up to answer it, just as he used to, ninety-nine percent sure it wasn't an unrelenting sales rep., this time (Felix aka Vault-Tec Rep would be packing up his stall about now, anyway).

"Evening, General, thought you might appreciate some stew." Preston smiled and profferred a steaming bowl of something that actually smelled like real food. "Oh, thankyou Preston!" Vincent took the unexpected food delivery gratefully. "You alright?" Preston always managed to pick up on those little signals that people weren't aware of giving off. It was his superpower. "Uh, yeah. I thought you were MacCready. He was with Sturges and the recruits, due back anytime now. I'd, er, I'd invite you in but it's not my house." Preston laughed gently. "No problem, I have things to do anyhow." Preston placed a hand on Vin's shoulder. "It's good to see you happy, friend. You two were meant to be." Vin blushed a little. He'd been doing that alot, lately. "Thanks, Preston. Say...uh...when you get a chance, go and take Lu Abernathy a few of our melons, would you? She'd be _very_ happy to see you," Vin said, with just enough of a cheeky grin on his face to get his true meaning across. Now it was Preston's cheeks' turn to go a shade darker. "You mean...really? Lucy? I thought she was courting Hawthorne?" Vin smirked and shook his head. "Only because he reminded her of someone she thought didn't even see her. Trust me on this. You never know." Preston shook his head a little, a smile of disbelief on his face. "Alright, General. I'll consider that an order." The two men beamed genuine grins to each other and Preston turned and left. Just as Vin was closing the door, he heard a familiar voice shouting his name."

The recruits were as green as the paint. Sturges had the patience of a saint, fortunately, because I could barely contain my irritation with them. I suppose I should have been grateful for the activity as I’m sure if I’d been back at Sanctuary Hills, waiting for the vertibird, I’d have driven myself insane. The trip passed without anything extraordinary occurring, just enough threat to keep me on my toes and focused on my sights, but never really moving from autopilot. A few bloodbugs, a couple of molerats, a handful of ferals. All in a day’s work. The appreciative comments from the recruits on my deadly accuracy was a balm to the soul, I have to admit. The sun was setting as the Red Rocket came into sight, the model rocket stark against the pink sky. A murmur of recognition and relief rose in a chorus from the assembled company. It had been a long trek back from Hardware Town, and we were heavily burdened with supplies. I smiled to myself, looking forward to seeing Vin, and how pleased he would be with the sheer quantity of paint, brushes and other stuff that I didn’t even know the use for we’d managed to salvage.

As MacCready approached Sanctuary bridge, he saw Preston, one arm carrying a sling of melons and his laser musket slung over his back, headed toward Abernathy Farm. Garvey took his hat off to them as they passed and Mac noted, with a smirk, that the guy seemed to be walking around with half a haircut.

Vincent was shovelling down stew whilst it was still warm and trying simultaneously to answer Curie's questions. She'd seen Preston leave and as the Sentinel-General had missed his appointment, decided to make a house call. "Oui, Generale, it is good that your appetite has returned. Per'aps swallow that spoonful before answering this next question, non?" Vin hadn't realised just how hungry he was but then he also hadn't realised he'd missed a meal. Being back in Sanctuary, living a few 'normal' days here had opened a nostalgic floodgate. He'd begun to remember more and more, things he'd love to share with Mac but not with Scribe Amélie Curie in a medical interview. He swallowed. Damn, that was good stew. Curie was just about to ask him another question when she heard someone approach and changed her mind. "I think you 'ave another visitor, Sir. I shall withdraw but please do not miss your appointment tomorrow. I must give the physical examination to determine the cause of your continued spinal pain." But Vin was only half listening as she exited and someone carrying clanking tins was walking to the door.

Vincent opened the green front door. "Mac? Is that you under there or did the Tin Man come for a visit?"

‘Tin man? What the heck?’ Must be strange pre-war thing (I framed most of Vin’s eccentricities in this way). I shuffled to the first available empty surface, which happened to be a sideboard, and opened my arms allowing my burdens to clang and clatter onto the top of it. I still clasped a tin of green paint in one of my fists, and waved it at Vin. ‘Here’s a _tin_ of green paint… and plenty more besides.’ I looked expectantly at him. Surely, _surely_ he hadn’t gotten cold feet again within a space of a day. That was patently ridiculous. Of course it was… My doubts were banished as Vin stepped forward, and enclosed me in a hug, not a hug of friends, not as his lips found mine and my eyes shut and I lost myself in his caresses. "Tin man...found his heart." Vin mumbled through a kiss. He withdrew slightly. "Wizard of Oz? No...of course you wouldn'a seen the movie but I thought maybe you'd read the book? No? We need to find a vault with a library...otherwise I'll write you a script and you can try puttin' on a play again. Bagsy the Cowardly Lion, heh. Let's see…Nick could be the scarecrow..." but Mac had cut him off with another passionate kiss.

Vin was mumbling incoherently about some wizard, lion and a scarecrow. Maybe he was a little nervous after all, or his medication was having some sort of effect. Either way, this was neither the time or the place for nonsensical small talk. I needed this kiss, this reaffirmation. As my lips pressed on Vin’s neck he responded in kind, his sighs indicative of pleasure and need. ‘I’ve been longing to come back to you all day, ‘ I whispered in his ear, ‘to _this_ , to us…’

Vincent buried his nose in the hollow of MacCready's neck and inhaled deeply, then began to bite gently and suck...then broke away. "Dammit, what in the name of mankind have you done to me, Mac?" He took his lover's face in his hands, slowly removed his hat and placed it carefully on top of the dresser, on top of a closed, clean tin of paint. He made a mental note to ask Mac sometime how he got his precious hat. For now though, words began to fail him. He spun Mac round, kicked the door shut with his foot, not noticing the figure in a cap duck down away from the window and hurry off. Vincent steered Mac to the bedroom. In some ways he was still rather conventional. Besides, he'd built a massive corner window into the living room and what they both needed now was privacy. However, when they got to the bed, Vin froze like a radstag in a headlamp. He could feel his erection strain against the casual trousers he wore and saw Mac notice the bulge. He was lost in the paradox of the moment, the familiarity and the strangeness of loving, of loving another man. His friend, his chosen Knight. His beloved. Vin felt weak at the knees, encumbered by the enormity of his desire to share himself, entirely, with this soul. What _would_ Nora have made of this revelation? A memory of her sideway glance, subtly raised eyebrow and knowing smile flashed into his mind and just as quickly, melted away.

The moment passed as if a cryo grenade had just worn off. Vin's romantic old self swept back into the present moment and he suddenly stepped forward, placed his hands under Mac's arms with the intention of literally sweeping him off his feet, hoping that those lithe legs would wrap around him so they could become lost to passion. No. What actually happened was that the moment Vin lifted Mac off the floor, he'd shouted "FUCK!", and collapsed to the ground in pain. " _Dumbass son of a raider-fuckin' whore bitch!_ " Vin's face was contorted in pain, his eyes squeezed shut. It hadn't been his knees that had betrayed him but his problematic back. He forced one eye open to check on MacCready and could only see those legs in his face. "Uh...geez..sorry Mac. You..ah!..you okay?"

I struggled to my feet. I was physically fine, my dignity not quite so fine, but I was more concerned at that moment with Vin’s pain. I crouched down next to him, he was still sitting on the floor in obvious agony. ‘Vin… I’m fine… but what about you? That was a nasty fall…’ I manoeuvred myself into a sitting position, next to Vin on the floor. ‘Do you want me to go and get someone… Curie.. or…?’ For once in my life I was at a loss for words. I stroked my hand across Vin’s shoulder, gently, not knowing what else to do. "No. I just need you right no..ow! Heh. I'll go see Curie tomorrow. Promise. Just need...need to lay flat on the floor." Vin lowered himself down, knowing that the muscle spasm would pass in an hour or two. "Talk to me, Mac. Take my mind off this. Tell me about Little Lamplight or Duncan or something." Vin looked expectantly up at his unexpected love.

Talk. It was one thing just _talking_ but quite another being expected to take the floor, especially when Vin’s face was looking at me full of love and tenderness. I cleared my throat, nervously. I wasn’t used to such an attentive audience, and I struggled to think of what to say. I had spent so long trying to forget large swathes of my past that they couldn’t be recalled to mind straight away. ‘I errr..’ I cleared my throat, visions of Lucy floated before my eyes, heavily pregnant, a sore back, and me. Trying to sooth her. Like I was trying to sooth Vin now. Vin’s face started to lose focus as tears filled my eyes, an unwanted intrusion. I blinked, tried to think of something silly, superficial. An anecdote.

Vin, seeing the glistening in Mac's eyes, said, "You want me to start? I ever tell you about my cousin? Close as brothers we were. When we were 18 or 19, I got a hold of this second hand motorcycle. I let him drive and rode shotgun. It was fun 'til we hit a bump in the road. He did a wheelie and I slipped off, crunched my butt-bone and it has never been the same since. Stimpaks'll only heal ya up so far. Okay. Your turn." Vin suddenly laughed, followed by a wince. "Sorry. I just realised I picked you up in a bar!" Vin craned his head to look up at Mac, as best he could from his prone position. His chuckle faded as he saw MacCready's expression. "Heyyy...what's the matter, bud?" He reached up to wipe away the tear that had managed to escape Mac's blue eyes. 

_Picked me up in a bar? Why was that even funny?_ I don’t think I will ever understand some of the things Vin seems to find so hilarious. And that’s fine, Vin’s a one off, unique…I felt a frisson of excitement in my stomach. He had chosen me. He really had, this wasn’t a dream, he was serious.

I took his hand in mine, smoothing my fingers across the callouses and scars, and found myself staring at the fine dusting of ginger hair on the back of his hand. I tried to think of a light hearted story to divert him, but my thoughts turned to Duncan. With his arrival and our reunion no longer a pipe dream my mind was running in all directions. Vin, seemed to read my mind.

‘What if he doesn’t recognise me, Vin…’ I blurted out. ‘What if it’s been so long he doesn’t know his own dad?’ Well, so much for keeping things light. 

There was that slight tremble back in Vincent's voice when he spoke. "Look, Mac. I recognised my son even though he was an elderly grown man. I didn't want to admit that I knew him but my gut wouldn't deny it. Duncan will know you, Mac. He'll see it in your eyes. Do...do you think he'll accept me? I mean...us? Oh man. I haven't had _the talk_ with the kid yet. I mean, Shaun. He still doesn't know what he is. I'm not sure...he calls me 'dad' but....I know I'm avoiding him. I just wish…"

I felt slightly reassured by Vin’s words, but of course, he had his own problems. I hadn’t even thought how Duncan would react to Vin, but I didn’t need to think, ‘Vin, Duncan will love you just as much as I do… I know he will.’ My thoughts switched to Shaun, so desperate to please his Dad, and Vin, too traumatised to respond. ‘As for Shaun, I know you’ll do right by him Vin, you don’t need to do this alone. We can both be there for him, when the time comes to tell him, we tell him together. If that’s what you want…’ I trailed off, looking at Vin for reassurance. Hoping I’d not overstepped the mark.

"How do I tell the boy he's not a boy? Do you w...ow, dammit...do you want me to come and get Duncan with you or should this crippled old man stay put?" Vin smiled crookedly at his own self-deprecating comment.

I shrugged, ‘No point preparing a speech now Vin, when the time is right the words will come… ‘ I wish I could have been as confident with my own situation…. Duncan. Vin’s offer to accompany me was tempting, though calling attention to his obvious health issues was probably his way of letting me know that he thought it was _another_ thing I needed to do alone. I must have been glaring as I eyeballed the paint cans on the dresser. I still begrudged them the time I had spent away from Vin retrieving them. ‘I…. I … I think it’s best if I go and fetch Duncan alone.’ I almost choked on the words. I really didn’t want to go alone, but then again I didn’t want Vin in even more pain, cooped up in the vertibird. ‘But.. er.. let’s talk about something else now.’

"Yeah. Good idea. Hey, I think the muscle cramp is easing off. How about you help me up and we get a beer and a smoke before bed? We can decorate tomorrow. I'm determined to finish the job - especially now you brought all those supplies. What do you say, hero?" Vincent had run through pet names in his head so many times. None of them seemed to fit; they were either too cheesy, too feminine, too uncomfortable or too insincere-sounding. 'Hero' was the only one that didn't grate on his inner ear. He awaited Mac's reaction.

_Hero?_ I had to look Vin right in his eye to check he wasn’t teasing me. Sincerity and a touch of uncertainty were the only emotions on Vin’s face. No wry smile or appraising look to indicate that he was anything other than serious. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to be called, and if he carried on doing it, and Duncan heard? Well, I wasn’t going to complain, there were a lot worse things I’d been called. I beamed a megawatt smile in Vin’s direction. I resisted my first instinct, which was to dub him ‘Gramps’. I offered my arm to help him up. ‘Sure, thing Vin, I could use a beer.’ Vin would do for now… I mean, he is the Sentinel General after all, and just calling him by his first name felt intimate and special.

Vincent took MacCready's arm gratefully, with promises to visit Curie first thing in the morning. He steered Mac outside to where two red patio chairs stood by a table, in the privacy of what had once been a back yard, now more like a wooden fortress. As Mac nipped off to fetch the beers, Vin fished half a cigar from his pocket and lit it, savouring the sweet, woody aroma. Mac returned, plonking two open bottles on the table and lit his own cigarette. 

"You don't have to, ya know" Vin ventured. At MacCready's quizzical look, he filled in the blank. "Go alone, to fetch Duncan. The last thing I wanna do is send you away now, 'specially as you just got here. I don't want to be alone again." Silence as the two men swigged ancient alcohol. "Oh, I know it won't take but a few days in a 'bird. Still..." Vin puffed on his roll of tobacco leaves thoughtfully, "I'm leaving the decision up to you, this time. What will it be?"

‘I errugh, oh, Vin, I’d love you to come with me…please?’ Waves of relief washed over me. I hadn’t realised just how anxious I was about the whole trip until I’d felt the strange lightness in me at Vin’s words. I needed him. Just his presence would give me the courage to face my own son. Pathetic. But, those endless ‘what-if’ scenarios in my head just wouldn’t be quieted. With Vin there to talk reason to me I wouldn’t end up paralysing myself with nerves at being reunited with my own son. I placed my beer down, reached my hand out to Vin, a soft caress to his shoulder and another ‘Thank you’. Whispered this time.

"Anything for you, bud. You know, all that time you spent at Red Rocket with Piper and Dan, watching over Shaun for me? Well," he took a deep, slightly shuddery breath, "maybe you can tell me about it on the way. Heh. I hear he's turned the molerat hole into a den. Just what I woulda done." Vin finished his beer and stubbed out the remains of the cigar. "Help me to the bedroom? I'm fu…freakin' shattered. Heh! Now you got me watchin' my tongue…"


	14. Companionship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief respite at Sanctuary whilst Vin recovers from his injury and MacCready faces the imminent reality of being reunited with Duncan. The strong feelings they have for one another rise to the surface just as reality hits.

"Welcome back to fatherhood, hey?"

Vin smiled sideways at Mac, enticingly, amused at how Mac's habit of watching his language was rubbing off on him. 

"No kids here yet, though. Help me to the bed..." his eyebrows raised briefly as his voice lowered to finish his sentence, "…handsome."

My eyebrows rose involuntarily mirroring Vin’s. I offered my arm, and Vin grasped it firmly. _Maybe he was just saying he’d come with me to get Duncan out of bravado and concern for me. If he struggled to walk to the bedroom how was he going to manage?_ I masked my selfish thoughts with a smile, Vin had called me ‘handsome’ after all. Somehow we made it the short distance to the bedroom, Vin’s arm still in mine as we stopped just past the threshold. ‘You OK, Vin?’ Again, the questions, always the nagging doubts in my mind, threatening to overwhelm me. _Too good to be true, all of this, good things didn’t happen to RJ MacCready._ Time slowed to a crawl as we stood, arms joined. My eyes sought Vin’s and I found my reassurance. I leaned in for the inevitable kiss, Vin’s lips on mine again. As natural as breathing this time, as sweet as Nuka Cola and as welcome as a cold beer on a hot day. My arms linked around his neck. I didn’t want him to pull away. Ever.

Vincent pushed away the searing pain roaring in his lower back and trailing down his right leg, stinging like Mirelurk Queen spit. Instead, he studied Mac's face, worry making his eyebrows dance even as his smile was called to its post. Vincent leaned in to kiss him, to breathe in the warm, sweet and savoury scent of him. Mac's arms around his neck, the slight weight sending a shooting pain down to Vin's foot. He winced and gently drew away. "Think I'd better lay down but yes, I'll be okay. Some strategic Med-X and a Stimpak or two... Curie'll see me right again. _Don't worry_. I've been here before. Besides, I wouldn't put you or Duncan at risk by going out half-cocked. Alright?"

"Mac....are _you_ alright?" Vincent leaned on MacCready's arm as he lowered himself down onto the bed, gazing into those blue eyes whilst he waited for a reply.

I was mesmerised for a short moment by the intensity of Vin’s gaze. _Was I alright?_ I didn’t even know the answer if I was honest with myself. I lowered myself down onto the bed, beside Vin, gently disengaging my arm as I did so, breaking our mutual gaze in the process. I nuzzled into his shoulder, arms gently around him, not wanting to hurt his back. We were both still fully dressed and my lips trailed up Vin’s collar bone feeling his warmth through the fabric of his shirt until they touched the bare skin of his jawbone. Vin sighed, shifted position slightly with a guttural grunt that hinted at the pain he was still in, but his lips met mine with enthusiasm and concern over Vin’s back evaporated as I felt hot blood rush to my cheeks _and other places._

"I'm gonna need someone to get me out of these clothes. Know any one who's good at stripping things down?" Vin could hardly keep a straight face.

‘Well, I’m sure Sturges would be more than happy to help’. I felt my lips curve against Vin’s neck into a smirk. ‘I’ll go fetch him shall l?’ My fingers belied my words, already fumbling with the buttons. One popped off into fingers, a curling trail of thread trailing from it forlornly. ‘Whoops..’ I tossed the button into the darkening recesses of the room. Vin made a small disapproving noise, just as he knew he would. I wanted him making noises, but not disapproving ones. My hand slipped into the now gaping shirt, making lingering contact with his skin as I feathered my fingers under the soft fabric of his vest. The soft gasp from Vin was beautiful to hear, and I carried on, unbuttoning and stroking his chest until I pulled the shirt from his shoulders and kissed along his collarbone, lingering over the eagle tattoo I had admired so many times.

At the suggestion of fetching Sturges, Vin gave a little frown with a 'pff' and pat to Mac's buttock. His heart picked up the pace as the button pinged onto the floor and he felt MacCready's gentle caress. As the kisses reached his neck, Vin's hand shot up to gently halt Mac's questing lips with his slightly rough fingertips. He lowered his voice to a husky whisper. "Wait...I..." Vin's breathing quickened and he swallowed, caught in the trap of hesitation.

I stopped as soon as Vin’s fingers brushed my lips. ‘Is your back hurting?’ I felt pangs of guilt, as I realised that a few minutes earlier he had been writhing on the ground in agony and here I was trying to seduce him. I disengaged my arms from Vin and made an effort to straighten the pillows around his recumbent form. More for show than any real purpose. Just to let him know that the message had been received and understood, no need for him to explain.

"No...no, don't stop....I mean..." Vin took a shaky breath and looked away from Mac's eyes, focussing instead on his perfectly neat beard, stroking it. "I mean, tell me what I can do for you, Mac. How can I pleasure you?" Vincent was trembling as he asked, just as he had the first time he'd made love. A strange new world it was to visit such intimacy upon another man though he was no stranger to genuine, soul-deep love.

My mind was racing at one thousand miles an hour. Vin was clearly nervous, his eyes wide, his cheeks flushed. His offer to me was still in my ears, as I rested my head on his shoulder, his hand still stroking my beard. But there was the little matter of his back. I could hardly ask him to exert himself, we had all the time in the world. I was happy. Happy just to be here, in companionable silence. No expectations, no demands just the feeling of safety, of love, of his hand on my skin. Soft and tender. I felt safe, content. No rush. No pressure. ‘Vin, I’m happy just to be like this right now, together, let’s just relax for a while, all I need is to feel you close to me like this.’ Vin let out an undeniable breath of relief. "You're a sweet guy, you know that? Still, I've got an urge to make love to you right now and an' I won't let this f...fractured tailbone get in our way. Go get me a spot o' cooking oil."

A felt heat rise in my cheeks. _Cooking oil._ Vin wasn’t pissing about. ‘Are you sure…’ I trailed off, seeing he was indeed in earnest. I moved into the kitchen. I needed some sort of receptacle, I grabbed a chipped mug off the counter, and dispensed some oil into it. It wasn’t particularly pleasant smelling but then again I had no intention of standing around all night sniffing oil when Vin was waiting for me in the bedroom. I stood in the doorway, suddenly shy and sheepish. ‘Is that OK?’ I asked, proffering the mug in Vin’s general direction, not wanting to meet his eye.

Vincent dipped his forefinger in and rubbed it with his thumb. "Perfect. It's alright, Mac. Take your shirt off...just your shirt," he lowered his voice "for now, anyway." He waited as Mac bared his chest, then asked him to sit on the floor, back to the bed, so he could reach Mac's shoulders from his enforced prone position. Vincent rubbed oil between his palms and gently began to map the tangled knots of MacCready's shoulders with his thumbs. "You got the Mass Pike junction goin' on here, man. Let's see if we can loosen you up a bit." A pause, the meow of Moochy, the most recent addition to Sanctuary's population, the only sound besides their breathing. Vin paused, tilting his head towards Mac's ear. "I need you to know that I'm serious about us. I'm in love with you, Mac."

Vin’s words were like honey dripping into my ears. I realised that I had still been harbouring doubts and worries about how Vin was feeling, or whether it was all too good to be true. I eased my shoulders into the rhythm of Vin’s massage. The pressure from his thumbs was verging on the painful, but I manfully leant back and before long the discomfort was replaced with a blissful feeling of relaxation.

"There, not too painful for ya?" Vincent acknowledged Mac's subtle permission to continue the massage. He could feel the younger man's shoulders slump a little further away from his ears, heard his breathing steady and slow its pace, until the tension had evaporated and Vin's hands begged for respite. "I'd ask for my turn save that there's no way I'm rolling over right now. Will you lay beside me, Mac?"

Vincent's thoughts were loud in his head. This couldn't be too different to what he'd been used to, surely? He'd just have to trust that Mac would let him know what he liked...as well as what he didn't. He cursed his back for letting him down but it meant that he'd just have to restrain himself a bit. Maybe get a little daring. He dipped two fingers back in the mug discreetly.

I moved back onto the bed, feeling limpid and relaxed. Taking my place beside Vin I moved as close to him as I could. Candles bathed parts of the room in a warm glow, making the dark corners as unfathomable as Vin’s thoughts. His face was an unfamiliar pattern of dark and light as the shadows cast by the candles flitted over his face. I lay for a moment, before reaching my hand to Vin, my fingers resting on his thigh, a small movement of my fingers, then my hands were sweeping over his body, which was still unfamiliar to me, yet so welcoming.

Vincent burrowed an arm under Mac's waist, a little awkwardly since he had to stay flat as a board on his back to avoid irritating his injury. He felt Mac's caress leave sparks of excitement under his skin and curled his arm, forcing Mac to roll over onto his side. From there, Vin's hand went south, slowly easing its way under his waistband, tentatively finding the scattering of hairs on his buttocks. His breathing quickened but he wouldn't stop there. He ran slick fingers very slowly down the valley between the two cheeks and stopped at the bony edge. "Is this alright? Shall I...?"

A pleasurable shiver went down my spine at Vin’s dominating manner and the shiver yielded goosebumps as his roaming hand moved over my skin. I will never know exactly what he was planning though, as the rational thoughts I had left pushed themselves to the foremost. Undeniably Vin was in no condition for any sort of exertion. Whatever he might think, whatever was fuelling this bravado, I felt a responsibility to nip it in the bud. It was flattering as hell that he would want to please me like this, but at what cost?

‘I.. umm…’ I placed my hand over Vin’s larger hand… and gently moved, it resting it on my hip, despite Vin’s noises of disapproval. ‘Look, Vin… I eurm.. we have the rest of our lives to be together. As much as it kills me to knock ya back, I’m worried one wrong move and your back is going to be permanently hosed.’ I rolled around to face him, one finger tentative on his moustache, a slight worry in my mind that he may still try for one last hurrah and this time I probably wouldn’t have the willpower to resist. I searched his green eyes, unreadable in the candlelight. My lips brushed his again. My voice was a hoarse strained whisper, ‘I love you Vin, and I want you… and I know you want me. But tonight… we need to sleep.’ Vincent couldn't help himself. The tears came, yet he smiled through them anyway, a bittersweet tornado of memories colliding with Mac's words. Those gentle lips, those blue eyes....that damned realism. "That's just what Nora would have said, too. You're right, Mac. I just needed to show you how much I care for you but I guess you already know." Vin sighed, surrendering to common sense. "I'm so glad you're here. Sweet dreams then, hero."

Vincent woke with a start. A bony knee had jabbed the small of his back, dangerously close to the problem spot. "Fraggit!" he whispered, his annoyance evaporating as quickly as a las-struck foe becomes a pile of ashes.

He slowly twisted around, with great care so as not to disturb the owner of the intruding knee. Mac was still sound asleep, a little drool escaping onto the off-white pillowcase, his eyelids not quite fully closed in confirmation of the depth of his slumber. Vincent raised himself on an elbow to gain a better view. Mac always looked so very young when asleep. Vin reminded himself that it was because he _was_ young. He must be, what, not quite 24 now? It occurred to him that he had no idea when Mac's birthday was. 

Nora used to rib him mercilessly when she caught him looking at the horoscopes in the back of the Bugle but he remained curious, despite her fierce realism. So Vin reflected for a while on what he knew of MacCready. He was definitely an Earth sign, like himself, materialistic and practical. He was always on the go, rarely stopped. Vin was often the one to suggest a break, except when darkness fell. He was good with money. Heh…bottlecaps. How many had he thrown in the garbage when he could have been saving them instead of those rectangles of printed paper? Vin was glad of the timing of the Nuka competition that had so many office workers squirrelling their caps away in the hopes of escaping their desk jobs for a while. Poor bastards.

Capricorn. That's it. Which meant…oh fucknuke. He'd missed Mac's birthday, just. Well, call the house his birthday present…which reminded him, they were supposed to finish decorating it today: "Mac. Wake up, man. Your turn to do breakfast. I gotta go see Curie soon." Mac threw an arm over his face and mumbled some incoherence. Vincent grinned devilishly and did something gross he used to do to his cousin. He let a drop of spittle gather on his lips and aimed it right at Mac's forehead. The sudden wet droplet had the desired effect and those blue eyes were suddenly sleepily scowling up at Vin, who grinned then wiped the spot away with the sheet. What was it about MacCready that made him regress back to being a big kid?

Vincent repeated his breakfast request and Mac got straight up and into the remaining clothes he had bothered to take off the night before. He grouched into the bathroom but by the time he'd made it into the kitchen, he was singing some old band tune that Vin hadn't heard for years as it wasn't on the DCR playlist. He loved listening to MacCready sing. When the unseen sniper wasn't hitting heads he was hitting notes, bang on, with real talent.

Soon the smell of Yum Yum Devilled Eggs and fresh fried tatoes hung in the air. Mac brought it through, two clean red plates on a surgical tray, two cups of rad-roasted coffee and…a mutated fern flower. "For me, darling?" Vin teased, picking it up and twizzling it between his fingers. Mac's cheeks darkened, looking for a moment as if he would snatch it away in embarrassment but then his expression shifted into wise-ass mode. "Of course, dear…(Vincent fluttered his eyelashes)…oh for frag's sake."Mac chuckled and Vin was cracking up, continuing his teasing, putting on his best 'dame' voice and generally acting like an eight year old with a sugar rush.

Somehow, breakfast got eaten and Vincent got his pants back on without yelling. When he stood to walk over to the clinic though, that old enemy shot pain through his spine and brought sciatica along with it. Vincent could obviously not bear weight on his left leg, nor make any utterance that wasn't a cuss word. MacCready remembered that there was an old walking stick they'd shoved in the workshop, somewhere. He ran to fetch it, legged it back and proffered it toward Vin.

"What the hell? I'm not a doddering old fool just yet." Vin knocked the stick away and shouted in pain again, missing what Mac muttered under his breath about Vin being a couple of centuries older than him, actually. Mac settled for lending his shoulders, though it would have been easier if the stubborn son-of-a-brahmin had used the stick as well. He was no featherweight.

It took much longer than Mac had thought as Vin had to keep stopping every few steps. When they got to the clinic, Sturges lent a strong arm and Curie directed him to the walled off portion she referred to as the 'operating theatre'. A few scans, some prodding and a couple of injections later and Vincent strode painlessly out of the door, ready to tackle the painting.

Curie had mixed a special concoction of Stimpak, Med-X and something else, directing Vin to return in two weeks for another dose. "Sentinel-General, sir," she had said in her heavy French accent, "I must remind you not to self-medicate. I shall research improvements to the Med-X formula. Per'aps we can reduce its addictive qualities. Unfortunately there is only so much a Stimpak can 'eal. I strongly suggest using Power Armour whilst on patrol, it will allow your body to recuperate faster. For now though, a day of no heavy duties, I must prescribe."

As Mac and Vin stepped back into the house, a beep came from Vincent's Pip-Boy. Proctor Ingram had installed a secure radio channel receiver, which crackled into life as Vin tuned in. A recorded message informed them that the requested Vertibird would be landing at site SG1 at 0800 hours the following day. The landing pad mentioned was actually the Vault lift to one-eleven. A safeguard had been put in place to stop the lift from being activated by any tom, Raider dick or feral Harry and guarded by a couple of brotherhood soldiers at all times.

My heart started to beat so hard in my chest, I was sure that everybody could hear. This was really happening. I plonked myself down on the nearest chair. I focused on my leg, which was shifting restlessly of its own volition. I could feel Vin’s eyes on me even though I couldn’t see them. Sure enough, after a few moments I lifted my head and met Vin’s concerned gaze.

"Long time comin', huh? Take a moment. I'll fetch us a coupla beers." Vincent moseyed over to the little kitchen and retrieved the beers. He knew full well the emotional tension of being kept from your child and the anticipation of reuniting. It was clear that Mac was about to pop like a shook up Nuka Quantum. He grabbed the spanner that had long doubled as a bottle opener and returned to the front room, dropping his full weight onto the only recently unpackaged red sofa. "Ahhh. Damn but Curie fixed me up well. So much better." Mac's jiggling leg was beating its own nervous rhythm on the carpet, clashing with a muffled Bob Crosby crooning about Happy Times on a nearby radio. "Here you go, one beer and my good ear. Out with it, lover, what're you thinkin'?"

I gulped down some beer, my throat suddenly dry. _What was I thinking?_ I attempted something I wasn’t very practised at - trying to analyse what exactly was going on in my poor befuddled brain. Dread… well that was certainly there, fear, but also excitement, anticipation. I was pretty darn sure that if Ingram announced the vertibird had been cancelled I’d be devastated. Yet.. here I was, my stomach churning, my mouth so dry I couldn’t talk and my hand shaking so much I almost spilled the beer. ‘I don’t even know what I’m thinking, Vin.. I just.. don’t.. know.’ I placed my beer down on a table. The swirling liquid giving away too much of my inner turmoil. I tried to utter a platitude about my lack of thought, for emphasis, but my voice tapered and quivered into nothingness. "I get it, believe me. How long has it been since you saw the little guy?"

I stared at the bottle of beer, the liquid starting to settle, bubbles making little pops as they breached the surface. ‘Umm, I don’t even know… maybe a year.. two.. one and a half?’ I thought guiltily of all the time I’d wasted. The blocks of weeks, days, months, a vision of a Vault-Tec calendar in my head, the pages flying around. Time. In my old life it had been an irrelevance, one miserable day sliding into another endless miserable day. I had hardly bothered counting them before Vin and the Brotherhood had come on the scene. There had been no need.

"Poor kiddo. That's a long time to be sick." Vincent sloshed his beer, still in its bottle, in thoughtful circles. He briefly wondered how long the white-haired Shaun had been ill before...before... Vin forbade that final thought its formation. He drew a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. "Duncan will be safe here. We'll see he gets strong, gets to play and just be a kid. I'll build a school...Vaughn would've liked that... Alright, lets get to work. You brought thick _and_ thin brushes, right? We only have two walls and half the door to finish." Vin shrugged off his slacks even as he made his way to the bedroom. When he returned, he was wearing a pair of tatty jeans. He threw a bundle to Mac. "Put those on. Oh and put your precious hat somewhere safe unless you want that painted, too. Say, you never did tell me how you came by that. I could use a good story."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my co-writer for bringing MacCready to life. To our readers: thankyou for your patience. We are writing around our own real-life dramas, so the creativity ebbs and flows and goes on holidays to foreign climes or to medical appointments and gets swept up in other characters' stories.
> 
> I'd like to put in a special mention, some fellow fanfic authors, met via Tumblr, that have recently entertained, indulged and inspired me: KickerWrites, WhatsHappeningCowboy and MustInvestigate. You are all Rockin' the Atom, cats!


	15. Hang Your Hat, Not Your Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever wondered about where MacCready got his hat from? Well, sit back, ignore the paint-fumes and listen...

‘I’m not so sure it’s a good story…’ In fact, I was pretty damn sure it wasn’t. Ironic to be painting because this sure as hell didn’t paint me in a good light. I made a big show of arranging the paint brushes but could still feel Vin’s expectancy and interest. Maybe I could just feed him some bullshit and get on with the rest of the day. Or maybe, I could just tell him the truth. It would be almost a relief, to confess, to share, to have him confirm I wasn’t a monster. 

‘Ok, sit down then, get comfortable…’ I flopped into a chair. Arms akimbo, hat off now which had somehow found its way into my lap where I twiddled with it. ‘It was before Duncan was born… Lucy was pregnant, we were just two young kids. We made it all the way to Diamond City. One hell of a journey, but we made, it. We wanted to settle there, somewhere safe for the kid, where I could find some honest work and Lucy could maybe take in patients or get one of the doctors to train her. There wasn’t much of a plan. Just getting there was the plan.’ 

‘By the time we arrived Lucy’s pregnancy was clear for all to see. What I didn’t see was how fuckin’ vulnerable that made us. We were staying at the Dugout Inn, scraping together our remaining caps we could just about manage with the discount Vadim gave us. Or should I say… gave Lucy. It was her nature to be friendly, endearing, ya know?’ I looked at Vin for confirmation. ‘She was the good one, I was the cynical prick, the unspoken consensus being that she must be crazy to end up with a loser like me.’ I paused. It hadn’t always been unspoken either, but people didn’t usually make the same mistake twice. I might have looked like a skinny scrawny kid back then, but looks can be deceiving. Seeing Vin was still listening, I carried on… ‘So… Lucy was obviously pregnant and well, that got a lot of people interested. See Vin, just how many babies do you actually see in the Commonwealth? Children are a rare commodity, healthy children even rarer.’ 

'So… one night we were invited to drink with Darcy Pembroke, strange place for her to be drinking, or so the regulars thought. She usually favoured the upper stand establishments. For some reason she was over us like a rash… schmoozing. Lucy got tired real quick lugging the baby round so it wasn’t long before she was yawning and heading off to our room. That must have been what Darcy was waiting for. Soon as Lucy had got out of earshot we got down to the real business of the evening. She wanted to _buy_ our baby….’ I sat back. Looked at Vin for a reaction.

Vin's mouth twisted in a grimace, his sympathetic eyes practically shouting 'How could she?!' He remained silent, his expression settling into sad disbelief.

‘Four thousand caps… Four fuckin’ thousand caps… well that was more money than me and Lucy ever saw in a lifetime. My first instinct of course was to tell Darcy to go forth and multiply. But I didn't. I sat. I stared into my beer. Four thousand caps.... four thousand. The words seemed to fly round and round my head, and still my mouth couldn't find words. Darcy sat there looking at me, then without another word she walked out.' 

'I stumbled into the bedroom, not wanting to wake Lucy. I lay down on the bed, and Vin, I must have spent hours and hours just lying there with the words _four thousand caps, four thousand caps, go fuck yourself, go fuck yourself_ teasing and playing around in my head, duelling and entwining. Sometimes 'go fuck yourself' in the ascendant, then a clear win, and I'd feel sleep coming to claim me, only to have 'four thousand caps... four thousand...' Starting up again.’ ‘It was intolerable, and I knew I'd have no rest at all that night and I was scared of waking Lucy. I decided to go for a little walk, leaving a note in case she woke to find me missing. My steps took me to the market, of course it was the middle of the night so the only trader was Percy. I jangled my few remaining caps in my hand. Just once I would like to feel some reassuring heft there, but the tinny jingle jangle of my caps had alerted Percy to a potential customer and he was peering into my face with one shiny eye, the metallic covers widening as he inspected his potential customer. He must have been set to ultra-verbose mode, because he just wouldn't shut up, insistent on telling me every tiny detail about his special offers on Cram and Nuka Cherry. 

I was letting my eyes wander while Percy droned on. At least he was a distraction. My eyes ranged the stock on display, wondering if Percy was capable of detecting the deft movement I'd need to make to pocket some ammo that was just lying there waiting to be taken. My eyes roved the display for any other easy pickings. On the back of a shelf I saw it, the hat. It was perched high, and my eyes felt drawn to it, though it was way too risky to try and steal something so deep within the recesses of the stock. 'How much for the hat?' I enquired of Percy. It must have been my lucky night because Percy stopped to consider, mid spiel about cram... 'Oh tell you what young man, two cans of cram and I'll throw the hat in for free.' Man, he must have had shit loads of that crap to offload...' 'So, I bought the obligatory cram, maybe it would come in handy if I ever found myself close to starvation. I examined the hat, wondering if I'd been a fool to spend a couple of our dwindling caps on such a thing. I turned it over in my hands as I walked back to the Dugout Inn; it was in good condition, the olive green colour barely faded and the band around the crown still a deep bottle green colour. It would make me look older, give me more gravitas. It was nearly morning, Lucy would be waking soon. I placed the hat on my head. It felt good, it felt right. Entering our room Lucy was already awake. She greeted me with a sleepy smile and I sat down next to her on the bed. She exclaimed at the hat, trying it on, saying how nice it was. She didn't even comment on our dwindling caps. The four thousand caps pressed into my mind again, it was fucking ridiculous. I was fucking ridiculous to even consider it, and of course it wasn't my decision to make. I decided to put it out of my mind once and for all, told Lucy about it, made a big joke. Never once let on to her that I'd even been tempted one little bit. Lucy was still fiddling with the cap, by this time she'd tucked 3 bullets under the band. 'One for you, one for me and one for the bubba.' I remember laughing at the time, thinking her sentimental and silly. Back then we were too young to be concerned with our own mortality. I kind of liked the effect of the bullets though so I kept them there. And there they stayed… until.’ I felt my mouth go dry. The words didn’t want to come out any more. I looked down at the hat. The two remaining bullets were tarnished where they were exposed to the elements, a dull gleam just visible from the shiny metal protected by the band.

Vincent lay his large, strong hands on MacCready's long-fingered, wiry ones. "You still feel guilty." It wasn't a question, nor an accusation. Vin knew the way Mac's mind worked, now. Probably better than anyone else alive that knew him. "There was a point in my life where I'd've been tempted, too. When I first joined up, earning just 'rations and board' pay and Nora was spending all her savings on law school, we were stuck in this cubby-hole of an apartment in a dubious part of town, with loud neighbours and late-night bars nearby, spilling out their abusive, inebriated contents in the early hours. I spent too much on booze and chems already and would have broken for sure if someone had offered me four thousand dollars for just about anything I owned. But… _your baby_? Gee, Mac. Little MacDunc is priceless." Vincent ducked to catch Mac's gaze. "Of course you wouldn't have cracked. You are far too good a man to go through with something like that, even when you got it in your sights." Vin took the cap from MacCready's restless grasp and placed it gently on his head. "Let this beloved hat serve as a reminder to you of the calibre of man you are, Robert Joseph MacCready. May Lucy's bullets in the band and my ballistic weave in the lining always help you keep your head up high." For a moment, they wallowed in each other's eyes, until the sun on one of the dented paint cans made it pop loudly, breaking their concentration. Vin smiled. "Now, take it off and leave it over there unless you wanna add green paint to it." He turned the radio on full blast and before long, they were loading paintbrushes instead of guns and taking it in turns to make up lyrics and sing along: "The paint is the greeniest, the hat is the peakiest; Vin's the bossiest, Mac's the messiest, waaaay back home. No place like home, swee-eet home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was mostly written by banquos_ghost, though I put her up to it. Believe me, it was well worth waiting for!   
> The last few chapters are just about there so you won't have to wait quite so long for the next one. We love comments, too, so feel free to add your thoughts!


	16. Where One Journey Ends...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is finally time for Vincent and his companion to bring little Duncan MacCready home but there are a few surprises in store for Mac.

The nightmares were back. They would always creep up on him just as he'd started to feel safe again, just as he'd slid into the deeper end of relaxation. Nora would assure him that the disturbance to her sleep was no big deal, a military wife's expected duty of aftercare. Even when Shaun had come into the world and the blissful tension of new parenthood had softened around the edges, their hours of sleep lengthening gradually, those dreams of doing the military crawl through bits of what used to be called pals, of the earth being injured and throwing down stony mud rain right over him; of those horrific moments when he'd catch a glimpse of a tiny, terrified face, too far away to protect, swallowed by a cloud of smoke.

Tonight, those old dreams were joined by the new one. _Claustrophobia squeezed at his pounding heart, the dank, dim tunnels lit only by the bioluminescence of unnatural fungus. Tunnels filled with ancient graves, the historical remains side by side with their new crypt-mates. The burning memory of their expressions, the brief relief of recognition quickly melting into shock, dismay, anger, revenge…release. Mannequins with stone faces, staring past him. The blackboard on the back wall was filled with names, crossed out in angry, messy chalk strokes. 'Desdemona', 'Doctor Carrington', 'Deacon', 'Glory', 'Tinker Tom', 'even P.A.M. FFS'._ That last was petty revenge on the Brotherhood for his murder-orders. Had he chosen to betray them instead, he would have found a way to do the same to the Railroad for forcing his gun hand. There was no other way. No other way, he still told himself, though there was part of his mind still engaged in the riddle, the part trained in military strategy, stuck in a logic-loop like P.A.M. trying to compute the unknown variable. The dream mutated into an anti-orgasm of pure fear and remorse which soaked him in sweat and screaming woke him up.

MacCready was straddled over Vin, one leg braced over the side of the bed, his foot planted solidly on the floor to stop the man from tumbling out onto his darned fractured coccyx again. Vincent felt a trickle of sweat run down his temple, saw his lover's concerned face. "Bad dream. Nothing new, just…Med-X shot prob'ly brought it on. Let me up, Mac, I need a cold wash." MacCready found himself on voluntary breakfast duty again, distracting himself from memories of his own nightmares. He shook the box of mac 'n' cheese out, putting the packet of now-crushed pasta away in a cupboard and emptying the cheese powder ('super pasteurised, long lasting and creamy!') into a bowl. Add a little hot water, stir into a paste then top up with half a cup more and add a dash of whiskey, poured over the waiting bowls of sugar bombs and there you go: "Cereal Filler". Vin had made such a disgusted face when Mac had told him what was in his breakfast, leaving mention of the whiskey until last at which point, that spoon couldn't get to his mouth fast enough. "That's…not foul." Vin said out of one side of his 'tache.

Ingram was waiting for them at the landing pad, standing next to two patchwork power armour suits that looked like they'd been scavenged from several other suits. Sugar Bombs paintjobs jostled with shark, military, Abraxo and even Vim! Refresh to catch the eye offguard.

"Camoflage," said Proctor Ingram with a grin at Mac's expressive response. Vin grinned and explained that perhaps going anywhere near Western Steel territory on personal business was a bad idea. He moved closer to examine the suits.

Ingram stomped carefully over to MacCready and laid a hand on his shoulder.... .. Her features softened as she glanced at Vin and back. "You look after our man, Mac and good luck fetching your kid. Listen," She glanced over again to see the Sentinel-General going over flight plans with the Lancer. Her voice dropped to a hush and Mac fidgeted under her armoured hand. "I'm no fool. Steel leav8es a bad taste in your mouth, you can't help but give that away. Maybe the Brotherhood don't like to admit just how much of a dysfunctional family we are but you followed him into this and you are doing both the Brotherhood and your Sentinel proud. On a personal note, if I may, Knight?" MacCready nodded mutely, a little surprised at being asked permission. She continued. "He loves us both but you, he loves you most of all. I didn't get a chance to let you know that…well, I can live with that. Just keep him safe."

* * *

The Vertibird set them down in a hidden valley. Vincent and MacCready walked as far as they could in their patchwork power armour but found a nook just large enough to disgorge themselves into and whip out the precious F.C.s to better the chances of the suits still being there when they returned.

MacCready took point, this was his home turf after all. They found the tunnel leading to the cavern. Strings of white fairylights still hung across the ceiling. A large sign Vin could just about make out that once read "Visit Lamplight Caverns" had a faded red 'DON'T' scrawled prefix, under which had been added in fresher red paint "you fukin dare, Mungo". 'Well, that's new," Mac mused. 

A woman's scream suddenly rang out behind the gate. MacCready looked up at his old guard post spot which was disturbingly empty. 'I don't like this, something isn't right here.' He took up his rifle and looked through the scope, not up but down low where there was a gap, easy to miss amongst the faded lettering. He let out a relieved huff, then bellowed "Ex-Mayor Mungo Mac reporting back, Mayor Newt."

A scruffy blonde-haired kid in an overlarge army helmet popped up, as did a decent looking combat shotgun. "Who's your big friend?"

Vincent lay down his rifle slowly and said "I'm just the old Mungo who helped the former Mayor get the cure for little MacDunc's blue boils."

The nickname just slipped out, he had intended to be more formal. Luckily, the kid snorted with laughter. "MacDunc! Good one. Either of you know about gettin' babies outta bellies? This woman won't quit screamin'. Come on in, MacCready and BigGuy."

The gate opened wide to admit them. Just up ahead, laying on three small mattresses and blocking the way, was the source of the noise. Mac and Vin stopped dead.

"You..er..ever delivered a baby, Vin? All I did was get sworn at and my hand crushed whilst the doc did the work."

Vincent didn't reply, in fact he stood there, looking like his mind was held hostage in the past. 

"Vincent?"

"Hey, Bigman. Quit staring and do something! She's gonna attract undo attenshun," said a boy in an old policeman's hat.

Mac laid his hand on Vin's shoulder and repeated, softly, "Vin? Are you with us, buddy?"

He hadn't been. For a moment he'd been back in that village, smoke pouring from broken buildings, gunfire in the distance, the young lad pleading with him in words he couldn't understand whilst his mother strained in labour fearing her family's death. The medic whom Staff Sgt. Vincent 'Nate' Hudson was escorting mumbled something about his oath and directed his officer to help. It had been a girl. They'd managed to allow her a brief moment with her family before they had to withdraw. Looking back down into the village, Vin just caught sight of the mininuke's explosion. Not even an hour old…

The woman's next scream brought him sharply back. His training kicked in as he took a moment to assess the situation. The woman looked to him to be in her early fifties which probably meant she was a decade younger at least. Her roman nose and, when they opened briefly, blue eyes reminded him of someone. Her thick, ash-blonde hair was cut short and practical and sticking out at every angle, where it wasn't stuck down with sweat. 

"Bring me alcohol, blankets, towels, purified water and something sharp," he said to the girl next to him. She just stared but the shorter girl next to her made some hand gestures and they both scampered off.

MacCready knelt down and took the woman's hand, mentally prepared for the crushing this time. "It's alright, we're friends. What's your name, lady?"

The woman was gasping for breath in between contractions but managed to wheeze out, "Bonnie. Name's Bonnie Ma..aaagh!" Her other hand found MacCready's free one and trapped him there.

Vin laid his hands gently on her stomach to try and guess the position of the baby. He remembered doing the same with Nora, under the guidance of the midwife. He frowned and tried again, the sudden realisation that the baby was laying across instead of head down and that he, Mac and a bunch of kids were the only immediate help this poor woman had.

"Who's the nearest doc?"

Newt said "Woulda been Doc Ingle but she got splatted a few days back. Stupid mungo shoulda known better'n to go.."

"Newton! Mayor Newt, is there any other medbod anywhere near?" MacCready's tone had edged toward 'stern parent' for a moment there. Vin was impressed.

"Nope. You're it..and Patchup here." A boy around Shaun's age who was probably the spit of a young Preston had just arrived with the two girls. He laid out the requested supplies plus a few other bits and bobs, including Stimpaks and a syringe of Med-X. Vin washed his hands in Vodka and when he saw Patchup holding his hands out, sleeves rolled up, he splashed some on his, too.

The woman passed out but her grip held firm. Mac looked at the shape of her belly and Vin trying to move the lump around with a frown. "Yeah...that's not a good sign, Vin. I've seen it before." He scrunched his eyes and slightly shook his head, briefly. _No chance._ He nudged Newt's arm with his foot as she passed. "Where's Duncan?" "Caps first." "Dammit, Newt, bring him here." "You ain't the fuckin' boss now, Mungo. That'd be me. This here," said the scamp, gesturing to the prone woman, "is an inconvenience, not to say endangering the lot of us. _You should know that,_ she hissed.

He knew it. He also knew the woman couldn't - shouldn't - be moved though she ought to be forced into consciousness. Sometimes you had a better chance of living by staying awake.

"Fine. We're doing all we can. You can get your own damn caps out of my pack. Reach down 'til you think you feel the bottom then feel for the zip hidden in the seam. They're all there."

Newt rummaged around, tossing supplies and junk out, waggling a pack of gum drops under Mac's nose with hopeful eyes. He smirked and nodded. She retrieved a crushed Fancy Lads box, dully rattling with tightly packed bottlecaps, then ran off yelling "Hey, Little Boy Blue, blow that friggin' horn." A very young voice called back and Mac strained to hear: "I'm packing my bag and in it I put Mr. Huggy, my toys, my rags and my junk. I took Mr. Huggy out 'cause he don't like getting squishied. And my Gummydrops. Thanks Mayor Newt. You're too fuckin kind."

MacCready's eyes had grown moist as he recognised the little boy's voice, speaking more words than he'd ever heard him say in one go, though he winced at the unwelcome new vocabulary. Vin heard. "Heh…sounds just like his dad."

MacCready turned his attention to Bonnie, now awake again, as he waited for Duncan to be brought down. It would take a while; the caverns were winding and little voices had always been swifter travelling down them than little feet.

"Som'n…somethin' wrong with the baby?"

"Bonnie, your baby is breach. I can't turn it. I'm gonna have to bring it out the sunroof."

"The what now?"

"I need to cut your belly to get the baby out. Do I have your permission?

The woman growled deep in her throat and blew out a breath. "Should never'a gone back to that no good, one-eyed, ungrateful bastard. Porter-fuckin'-Gage you gone and prob'ly done me in for good this time. That'd be about right on my grave. Here lies Bonnie MacCready, fucked up the raider cause she was damn greedy."

Vin said "Don't talk like that. We'll do all we can." He was busy sterilising scalpels and lining up Stimpaks, Med-X and Wonderglue and heard the names after Mac had.

"Did…did you say 'MacCready'? Did you come here before with another baby about twenty years ago?"

Vincent's question overlapped Mac's last. "Did she just say 'Porter Gage'?

All she could do was nod. Vincent took a deep breath, dredged up what little medical training he could remember and gave Bonnie a Med-X and a swig of the Vodka. He told Mac and Patchup to hold her steady, looked at the woman closely for a moment.

"I apologise, ma'am." Vin's right hook connected with just the right spot to knock her out cold. "Better do this quick."

It was a rough-assed operation but Vaughn would have been proud. Turns out Vin had been listening to his gory drunken lectures after all. He tugged the baby free, rocking her hips quite violently at which Mac made little noises of shock. It was a few anxious moments before the little fighter drew breath enough to let out a squal. Vin's memory of how Shaun, a little premature and in need of assistance at the very beginning, had been rekindled. He handed the tired bundle to MacCready and efficiently dealt with seeing to the wound.

This was familiar ground. He'd once helped a soldier who had taken a Chinese officer's sword to the gut and packed the man's intestines back like stuffing a string of sausages into a grocer's waxed paper bag and gluing it shut. Well, Wonderglue was invented by military medics after all. He jabbed a Stimpack deep hoping that it would work its miracle deeper in.

MacCready sat there, baby cradled in one arm, Bonnie's hand held in the other. The Little Lamplighters came to see, in twos and threes. One particularly tall girl sighed and said "Looks like I'm spending my last year as a babycart, then."

"What? No." Mac's face was pale. Suddenly he looked as if he could break. "Where's…"

At that moment, Mayor Newt rounded the corner with a little mousy-haired, brown-eyed boy who looked about four years old. Vincent instinctively reached for Mac's hand, which was still holding sleeping Bonnie's. Vin took back the newborn as Mac raised himself, though still kneeling, opened his arms wide and waited for the boy's reaction. Quiet, wide eyes, a nudge from Newt, still nothing. Vin reached for Mac's fallen hat and plonked it on his head. Recognition shone from the boy's face. "Dadda!" Duncan ran, still fully laden, into his father's arms, giggling and shouting "Dadda came home!" 

Bonnie opened her eyes weakly and Vincent lowered the baby into her arms to suckle. "It's a girl, Bonnie." 

"Roberta somethin' MacCready, like my boy I had so long ago."

Mac scooped Duncan around to face Bonnie. " _Robert_ Joseph MacCready?"

"How did you…no. Can't be…is it you, boy?"

Mac knew it then, just as he knew the sky before a radstorm and that cold always followed wet. He'd finally met his mother. "You've been here before. Why'd they let you in the first time?"

"Told 'em I needed a place for my boy. Porter wasn't having none of that family shit. Didn't let me stop by here to drop off food an' meds for the young'uns when we passed by. Had a plenty on the caravan, too.…gimme some Mentats, would ya? I need somethin'."

Vin rummaged in the outer pocket of his pack, the one where he stashed chems so Mac would see if he started using again. He hadn't…but Mac didn't need to know about the Daytripper. That was for emergencies.

"Here, Bonnie, I'm giving you another Med-X. Try not to talk."

"No. Let her talk," said Mac, quietly. 

"Here, here, have this, Robert. I know its you, my baby. You got your Grandad's eyes. Short like him an' all." Bonnie pulled out a pale grey-blue semi precious stone earring on a chain. "We found this at an old Mall. Pair of 'em, prettiest things locked tight in a case. Porter got them out for me. I gave him one. That ol' bastard never forgot me. I know on account of him wearin' it on that golddarn awful eyepatch o' his."

"Dadda, tha's a pretty pebble!"

Vincent was gritting his teeth. He held the back of his hand to Bonnie's head to feel a fever raging.

"So, er, Ma? You were a caravanner? And my…my father was a, what? A scavver?"

"No, darlin', sorry to say but he turned Raider. I was near this old Nuka settlement when I saw him again. He saved me from this scary ass knife bitch then…I thought I could save him. The life he chose…I wanted adventure too, not to be stuck on a farm wearin' the same old dresses, tryin' to wash hair long as Rapunzel with a cap-sized bit o' soap and shoes that let the cold and dirt in and hurt my feet. I wanted adventure. I went lookin' for him after he left me knocked up the first time. Oh my ghoul if he didn't go and do the same thing again. I quit him. He thought he was pickin' my lock but I gone stole his family jewels. My two babies are the best of us both. Gonna be…ah…gonna be so proud."

"Lucy…Lucia…was a medic. She was a good mom. Ghouls took her. Duncan here got sick. He was hid out here with Wol…with a friend. This man is my life now. Vincent. He's saved alot of people, helped me get Duncan's cure. Got me here. Roberta will be safe here but you know you gotta go as soon as you can."

"My boy…my RJ…I gotta go honey. I can feel it. Somethin' inside ain't right. Look after your sister. Stay away from your pa, he ain't no good to you. Li'l Duncan, y…you be good, now. And my baby girl. You need a middle name. I like N names. Nancy? Naomi? No? How 'bout Nora?" The baby gurgled and Mac and Vin nodded in unison. 

The Little Lamplight kids remaining had grown solemn. The colour had drained from the woman's face and a pool of red seeped into the old mattress.

"Glad I met you again, my boy MacCready. Love you son. Always di…"

Vin listened for a heartbeat and finding none, started pushing on her ribcage. Mac laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't. She's gone. My…my mother is dead."

"Alright Daddy, she can go visit Mommy now." Duncan wrapped his arms around his father as MacCready wept.

***

Vincent had been quiet. They'd buried Bonnie MacCready close to Little Lamplight, promised Mayor Newt that if ever they were in need to send a note addressed the Sentinel-General to any Commonwealth trade hub and to take the baby with them ("Ain't no milk for it here anyhow," Newt had pointed out). They'd find a wetnurse at one of the settlements but Vin already had a couple in mind who could take on a baby. He'd admitted to Mac that he just couldn't do it and MacCready had replied that it would be weird parenting his sister anyway.

"So…heh, yeah Dunc, Mr. Huggy _did_ do a good job! So, Vin…once we're back, would you come with me to find my f…father?"

"Porter Gage, the Underboss of Nuka World is dead, Mac."

"You know this because…? Wait. You?"

Vincent couldn't look at MacCready. "He was a Raider. Worst kind. Dangerous. Enough smarts to get others together, working his selfish goals. Not smart enough to change."

"It was you, wasn't it?" Mac replied monotonously.

Vin gave the tiniest nod and they said nothing more to each other all the way back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to darngoodshot (and that Porter Gage rp friend) on Tumblr for letting me adopt Bonnie MacCready into this fic.  
> I'm so excited to finally get this published! Leave comments, please :)


	17. Joining Forces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colonel Preston Garvey and Sergeant Caitlyn McBride converse about the coalition of the Minutemen and the Brotherhood of Steel.

Preston got up off his knees, brushed soil off his trousers and plucked one of the ripe tatoes that he'd been tending. The Castle Wall at his back, the water lapping gently before him, the crests tinged with the same hue as the tuberous fruit that he chewed. Peaceful moments were all too rare and this man savoured every one.

He sauntered through the gate, receiving a smile and nod from the guard there. Up the recently reinforced staircase to the top of the wall he bounded, striding around the top to face the Prydwen. Bottles clanked behind him and a woman's voice with a distinctive accent called his name. "Colonel Garvey, want a beer?"

"Hey Cait. Thanks but no thanks, I've a purified here." Preston held up a can of water.

"Sure and that's all the more for me, then, cheers."

"Just go easy, Cait. Don't want our new trainer with a brahmin headbutt on her first day.

"A what, now?"

"Bad hangover, like you got your head stuck between….you really haven't heard that one?"

"Nah…an' I'd thought I'd heard 'em all."

"Well, the General can always surprise you."

"Yeah, a real blast from the weirdy-wordy past. Like, what the hell is 'eyescream'? Sounds bloody awful if ye ask me."

Preston just huffed a little laugh and shrugged. 

"So…when did you find out he's a relic…I mean, that he's pre-war?" 

"Well, when he showed up at Concord and saved our asses from the damn raiders - not to mention the deathclaw hiding out in the sewer - I knew there was something about him I couldn't quite put my finger on. It wasn't until much later, when he rejoined us in Sanctuary, already Sentinel of the Brotherhood (though I didn't realise how high he'd risen in the Steel ranks) when I asked him to be General. I knew he'd gone to deal with his own business but I had no idea that meant eradicating the Institute. Yeah…he told me about one eleven, the whole journey. Wish I'd been by his side for that. Well, almost."

"So you didn't mind some buckethead prodigy takin' over the reins, then, Garv?"

"Cait. It's Garvey, preferably Colonel Garvey or in private, Preston. That is, if you behave yourself and speak better of the Sentinel General also."

"Sorry, Colonel, old habits…"

"To answer your question….I had my doubts. I put out some feelers and kept as informed as I could. Someone like that doesn't come along every day and I trusted my gut."

"Bet yer gut was doin' flips when the blimp arrived."

"You have no idea. I was afraid for the regular people, especially the ghoul-folk. Wiseman and I go back a bit, I knew him when he lived in Diamond City. The Brotherhood has a reputation and I didn't want to… _complicate_ things. The General has made me do a lot of soul-searching but I think we're on the right track, now. Better to befriend a bitter stranger than assume them a foe."

"I don't know about that. Anyone comes at me all defensive like I put me fists straight up."

Preston sighed. "I agree, we all have to be careful. You never really know your enemy until they strike, even those you used to call 'friend'. Still, if Vincent's plan works out, there's real hope for a more peaceful, safe world for the young ones to grow up in….and more of a chance we'll get to grow old. If it doesn't, then we just keep on fighting. So, Sergeant, between you and Ronnie I expect to see those recruits put through their paces, double time."

"An' if Steel turns on us?"

"Then we tell them to get the _hell_ out of our Commonwealth."

"D'you think….which side would he choose?"

"Are you doubting the General's loyalty?"

"Well…no, Sir, just who's he like to be loyal to?"

Preston rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I only know what I feel to be true…but it won't come to that."

"So sure, are ye? I'm not."

"I'm not in the least bit sure, Cait. I just have hope."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @mustinvestigate for sparking the idea for this little bridging chapter.


	18. MacCreadys, Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent and MacCready return to Sanctuary with their two young charges, four-year old Duncan and a newborn in tow. Life changes for the better for more than one family.

The journey back from Little Lamplight was an average trip across post-nuclear war states. A few raiders taking potshots, a couple of Supermutants chasing them to where they'd stashed their power armour and some mutant insect Vin had never seen before trying to make a meal of them. Usually, the two men would barely have broken a sweat dealing with these threats. However, with Vincent cradling a newborn, swaddled and secured in a heavy combat armour thigh plate, strapped papoose-like over his chest and Mac carrying Duncan, likewise clad in overlarge armour pieces and clinging to MacCready's front, the relatively short trip back to the Vertibird had their hearts pounding and the adrenaline pumping.

The Lancer took her 'bird as high as it would fly, well out of range of projectiles and laser beams. The baby did its first, greenish poop on the trip, which they could only smell whilst in the air. Upon landing at one eleven and taking it in turns to hold children whilst they exited their power armour, Vin immediately took care of the ragged stink-bomb. Suddenly it seemed to him that it was only yesterday that he was changing Shaun's diaper. Mac beamed. "Look! She may not be able to talk yet but I'm taking 'mutant sh..poop' as her first swearword. Right there with ya, li'l sis." He knelt and unwrapped Duncan from his protective layer, wordless and earnest now as he looked into those big brown eyes. Lucy's eyes. Mac's mood shifted after a moment; he grinned and lifted his son up high.

Settlers had started to wander over to the bridge as soon as they saw the aircraft fly overhead, so by the time the two power armoured men with their precious parcels arrived at Sanctuary's gates, they were greeted with a crowd of well-wishers. Among those sauntering to the front were Sturges and Preston but Marcy had seen the baby and pushed forward. "Oh, little scrap! Where did you find this baby, Vincent? Does it have…does it have a family?

MacCready stepped in. "Yes, Marcy, she has family." Mrs Long's face dropped. "She's my sister."

"Oh! Your… really, RJ MacCready, stop kidding around. It isn't funny."

"No, Marcy, you misunderstood. I… I found my mom at Little Lamplight. Trying to drop this squirt right at the front gate, just like she left me."

"How could she?" Marcy was tugging aside the faded scrap of shirt from the baby's face as she wriggled in Vincent's arms.

Vincent spoke up. "Her name is Roberta. She's an orphan now, Marcy. She needs a loving home and, well, we have two boys to deal with. I was wondering if you and Jun could…?"

Marcy's face went from an 'oh' of sad surprise to lighting up in the first genuinely happy smile Vincent had ever seen on her face. She actually hugged him, then MacCready, taking Duncan's hand and saying 'Hi, sweetie!"

Mac took Roberta from Vin's arms and handed her to Marcy, as Jun held Marcy tenderly from behind, looking like he might tear up at any moment. Mac placed a hand on Jun's shoulder and said "I can think of no-one better to raise my baby sister." Jun barely managed to whisper "Thankyou, thankyou." whilst Doc Anderson had managed to get through the crowd. " I'll give both the children a checkup and find a wetnurse as soon as can be arranged. Poor doll'll be starving."

Duncan looked around mutely from atop Mac's shoulders, huge brown eyes darting around, taking everything in: the patched houses, vegetable gardens, the sun glinting on the river and the people. Clean, well-fed, happy looking folk. His dad gently lifted him and set him on the ground, a warm smile on his face. 

"Where's Mommy?" Duncan's question melted the smile from MacCready's face. "You said she'd be here!" Vin saw Mac's confusion and jumped in, kneeling down to his level, spoke in a soft voice: "This isn't heaven, Duncan but it's as close as we can get right now. Your Mommy turned into pure Love, like my wife Nora did, like Granny Bonnie did when she left her body behind. You can feel Mommy with you, like I feel Nora with me, can't you?" He took the boy's little hand and tapped it softly over the boy's heart at the same time as tapping his own. "Right here. You'll see her again one day, when you turn back into pure love too." Behind Duncan, MacCready had collapsed, crouched on the cracked tarmac, into silent sobs. "C'mon, let's all go and find your house, hey?" 

Mac pulled himself together quickly as Duncan tugged at his sleeve, 'helping' him up. As the larger man put an arm round Mac's shoulder, he cast a sad but grateful smile Vin's way.

MacCready took Duncan to the front yard of their house with Vin tagging along behind, smiling. "This is our house, you, me, Vincent and..well maybe just the three of us. But we're not going in yet, I'm saving that for last." Mac showed Duncan all around Sanctuary, the school with its Nuka World playground, the bar ("Oh no, not until you're at least nine, young man!"), the market and the clinic. Sturges ruffled the boy's hair and gave him a precious roll of duct tape, the only blue coloured roll Mac had ever seen. Preston shook little Duncan's hand and plonked his hat upon the boy's head, which made Duncan giggle as he couldn't see, until Preston retrieved it and tickled his neck.

Finally they swung back to their own, heavily reconstructed home. Mac put a hand over Duncan's eyes as he carried him inside, relishing the smell of his little boy's head under his nose, delighted at the excited wriggles and squeals. A few steps in and Duncan felt himself lowered gently to the ground. His father's hand moved to his shoulder and there before him was a room, full of shelves of toys, drawers of clothes (of various sizes), a rocket rug in good condition and a comfortable bed with pillow, sheets and blanket. Duncan had never experienced having an entire room to himself. He squealed with delight, finding a pack of gumdrops hidden in a drawer and the water pistol from Nuka world that Vin knew Shaun must have snuck under the pillow. He wondered where his own son was, knowing full well he'd probably hung back at Red Rocket with Dan.

Vin watched the young father and his son with a beautific smile on his face. Duncan caught Vincent looking at his dad like this and said "You like my daddy alot. He told me so. Said you are his best pal ever!" Vincent nodded and replied "I love your dad." Duncan's big brown eyes looked incredulous. "You mean with hugs?" 

"Yes."

"With _kisses_?" 

Vin smiled and Mac blushed. "Yes, kisses too." 

"And tickle fights?" 

Vin chuckled and looked to Mac for elaboration but he only smirked, shrugged and raised his eyebrows. Vin asked the boy, with mock-ignorance, "What's a tickle fight?" 

Duncan replied "This is!" and launched slightly grubby little fingers at Vin's collarbone. Within moments he was submitting to the little scamp and Mac was leaning against the doorframe, giggling at the pair of them. Vin caught his breath and said "Hey, MacDunc. Would it be okay if I do tickle fights with your dad, sometimes?" 

"Uh-huh, mister." 

"You can call me Vin." 

Mac swept him up and put an arm round Vin, too. "How about 'Pop'? Would that be alright, Vin?" Vincent reached over and kissed MacCready right on the goatee-framed lips, having no words to thank him for the honourary parenthood just bestowed upon him. Duncan giggled and took Vin's cap, placing it on his own head. "Vin-Pop!" he exclaimed.

* * *

The three of them walked over the bridge to Red Rocket, to introduce Duncan to Shaun, Dan and Piper, if she was there. A boy in a striped blue and white shirt with a large black leather jacket, sleeves rolled up, wandered out of the door with some kind of gadget in his oil-stained hands. He heard footsteps and pocketed the thing. When he saw his dad, he ran to greet him, stopping just short of a flying hug. 

"Hey dad. I missed you. You must be Duncan MacCready, pleased to meet you."

" Hi, boy.

"Duncan, this is my son Shaun. He's your new big brother, now."

"Really?" said Shaun, surprised. "Can I show him around, Mac?"

MacCready tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.

" _Please?_ " "That's better, yeah sure… but don't go in the Den. 'kay?"

"No way. He's not old enough to get the password, anyhow." Shaun grinned just like any ten-year old boy and took little Duncan by the hand to show him around whilst Danse appeared round the corner, three beers in hand and a warm smile on his face.

Piper turned up at Red Rocket the day after they'd arrived, late in the evening. She wasn't her usual expressive self, though and hardly said a word to MacCready, avoiding his gaze but being great, as usual with Shaun and now Duncan, too. 

A few days later, Vin was given his medical all-clear and returned to duty, being called out to deal with a Rust Devil band to the northwest and then to clear out a newly discovered location that was too close to home base for comfort. Dan went with him and so Piper was charged with looking after things at Red Rocket whilst Mac enjoyed some paternity leave at Sanctuary, getting to know his son again who had grown so much. The scars from the blue boils were already fading but the Doc reckoned that they'd be with him for life.

MacCready had pestered Vin to set things straight with Shaun. The kid needed to know exactly who and what he was and they both knew it, so messages were sent and meetings arranged. Life was quiet for the MacCreadys for a while, broken only occasionally by baby Roberta's hungry wails, Codsworth's busybodying and the brief bursts of turret fire at the local weird wildlife.

MacCready couldn't help himself. Whilst Vin was away, he slept in his son's bed, curled protectively around him. Huggy the purple sloth had been made a bed in his upturned hat and the little brown haired boy slept peacefully, at last, on a bed littered with comics, safely in his father's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to bring Duncan home, after the game itself fails to deliver him back to RJ MacCready. The story needed a good dose of fluff, too. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it!


	19. Truth or Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has finally come to tell Shaun that he isn't what - or who - he thought he is. This is going to take more than one companion's help.

"Dammit, Blue." Piper stubbed out her cigarette hard. A man's brief grunt of amusement came from behind her. 

"Show a little patience, will ya? He's a busy man." Nick lounged back on the Red Rocket sofa, reading an old Late Edition newspaper. He'd finally found one with the centrefold still attached.

"He's a _day late_ Nick. I love Shaun, you know I do but I'm sick of babysitting him. Where the heck is 'Diesel Dan', too?" 

Nick leisurely turned a page. "Said he would be right back. Just zapping some bugs down in Concord."

Piper frowned. "The Stingwing nest? Oh crapola. Thought we'd dealt with that." 

Nick didn't look up from the paper. "Life has a habit of persevering."

Just then, the clanking of not one but two sets of power armour were heard and Vincent and Danse parked their rigs in the garage and got out with a click and a hiss. 

"Finally!" An exasperated Piper stood up and marched up to the Sentinel-General. "I'll get him. Bet you don't even know the password." Vin mouthed "Password?" to Danse, who replied, pointing down, "The den." 

Nick stood up and shook Vincent's hand. "It's about time you had this conversation. Really don't know how much help I'll be but I'm glad you're doing this for him. Better now than in a few years time when he realises that he's unchanged." 

Vin sat down heavily beside Nick. "Yeah. I guess so." 

Shaun soon appeared with Piper in tow. "Dad! You're back! Are you having a secret meeting here? Hi uncle Nick." 

"Hey kid. Take a load off." 

Shaun sat down cross-legged on the spot whilst Piper dragged a chair over. Danse looked like he was going to stay stood until Piper scowled at him, so he sat on the other sofa, taking up most of it.

Shaun looked up hopefully at Vincent. "Did you get me that thing that I needed?" 

Vin made a show of frowning. "What was it again?" 

"An alarm clo…" Shaun took the clock that Vincent suddenly held out to him."Thanks, Dad. I'll make you something you'll really dig." 

Vincent laughed. "Has Zeke been by, by any chance? You sound like an Atom Cat." 

"Yeah. He said I could be an Atom Kitten but I told him that was lame. Gave me this leather jacket, though, isn't it rad?"

Vincent managed a little smile and nod but his mind was anxiously on the task ahead and he looked around for support. "You ever play Truth or Dare?" 

"No. How does it go?" Vin explained the rules, dished out gumdrops to win or forfeit and got Nick to start them off. He dared Vin to try tickling Danse. He may as well have been tickling a rock…until he tickled the back of Danse's neck. One gumdrop to Vin. The game progressed, with Piper thankfully lightening up (a pile of gumdrop winnings improving her mood), Vin wishing Mac were there (though it was better when the sniper got tipsy), Danse choosing a Truth and admitting that he actually liked being called 'Diesel Dan', that and Nick being dared to wear Piper's hat, for which he had to fight her.

Then it was Shaun's turn to ask Vincent. "Tell me a Truth, Dad."

"Alright." He took a slow, deep breath." You… are my second son. My first was born before the war."

"Where is he now?"

"He got old, got real sick. He died." 

Shaun's face grew serious, matured in a second. He knew they were no longer playing a game. "What was he called? How did he get old? Did he look like me?" 

Vincent took a deep breath against the onslaught of questions. This was harder than he'd thought it would be and he couldn't help but tear up a little. "Nora and I named our baby Shaun, after my Grandpop. He was only a few months old when the world ended. We only just got to the vault in time…but they tricked us. We thought we'd get to go on living out our lives but they… they… " Vincent couldn't say it. Not again.

It was Danse who stepped in. "Vault-Tec ran immoral experiments on unknowing subjects. Your dad, his wife and their baby were placed into cryogenic stasis, from which the baby was stolen just over _sixty_ years ago. They murdered Nora Hudson and refroze your father. The baby grew up in the Institute and eventually became their leader."

"So….who's _my_ mom?"

Nick took this one. "Technically, kid, Nora was your mother. Things ain't simple, though, least not where the Institute is involved. I told ya how I got to be made and you know there are Gen 3 synths that are just as alive as I am but look the part, too? Well. Dan there is one." Danse nodded. "You've met a few more, too." Nick shuffled around to face the boy more directly. "Lemme ask you a question. Do you remember being a little kid?" 

Shaun looked at the floor and shook his head. "No. But I know stuff, like that the Sentinel-General is my dad. Like what the Institute looked like before it was a crater. I don't remember my Mom but I do remember seeing a little toy rocket above me." This made Vin choke back more tears.

Piper plonked herself down on the floor and took Shaun's hands in hers. "Hey kiddo. I may as well be the one to give you the news. What we're trying to tell you is that…" she looked up to receive nodded permission to continue, "..that you're a Synth, too." 

Shaun threw her hands aside. "No, I can't be. Look, I fell over yesterday and scraped my arm. I bled. See, there's the scab! I'm not a robot!" 

Vincent met Shaun's gaze. "No, son, you're not a robot. Piper is telling you the truth, you're a Synth. A synthetic human. You'll notice other kids growing but you'll stay the same. Some of the Institute scientists were smart enough to know that that's cruel on you." 

Danse put a hand on the kid's shoulder. "I know, boy. I didn't believe I was a Synth when they told me, either….but it's true. Your dad would never lie to you." Shaun stared hurtfully up at Vin, saying "Omission of truth is just like lying though, isn't it, _Vincent_. 

Danse raised a finger at him and spoke in a low, threatening voice, "You will address your father respectfully, child." Shaun glowered for a moment then acquiesced.

"Sorry Dad… but if I'm something the Institute made, then prove it, right now. There's gotta be a way." 

Vincent nodded, sadly and drew out a holotape from his belt pouch. He loaded it into his Pip-boy and the room fell silent. Vin's honourary family all heard Father's words for the first time. When it ended, Shaun sat stock still for a moment. No-one spoke. Shaun looked up into the face of the man he'd only ever known to be his progenitor and said "I dare you. I dare you be my Dad, for real. Not just some guy who turns up with junk every now and then. I dare you actually spend some time with me and teach me stuff and I dare you to help me find a way to grow up when you think I'm ready for it. I dare you, Dad." The boy looked as though he wanted to cry but synths have no tears. Instead, when Vin opened his arms, he rushed into them. 

"Dare accepted," he promised, into his son's dark auburn hair.


	20. Safe as Safehouses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vin and Mac pass by a ruined high-rise which reminds the Sentinel-General that he may have some loose ends to tie.

It had been a routine patrol, the Sentinel and his Paladin (or the General and his Major, depending on who's prioritising which titles) were scouring the area for any unexplored locked doors or twisted walking human remains that needed disposing of. They walked right past it once but when they'd circled around again, Vincent stopped dead.

"Ahh tits-an-shit!"

"You been saving that one? Cap in the swearbox, Vin."

"Shh. Remember this place?"

"Urghh… Tick on a Robot? Tea con de rigeur? Heh. I give up."

Mac's face fell as he looked over at Vincent's naturally pale, now blanched face. "Ticonderoga. High Rise."

The building was indeed a high rise but that wasn't what he was referring to. It was the man, hopefully still alive, hopefully still hiding inside. If Brotherhood came barging in - well, anyone save Vincent, perhaps, maybe Mac, they'd not stop to hear Maxson's revised mission statement. They would just present an excuse for any of the Brotherhood uncomfortable enough with their change of tune to _accidentally_ slip a trigger finger.

"We're going, now. I need Diesel for this."

MacCready now looked decidedly concerned as the snuck along, biting his bottom lip so that the light brown beard under it bristled straight out. "Think you can persuade him outta his shiny carapace? They'd spot that tincan strut a mile off."

"Of course. Can't have Mr. Outstanding standing out, now, can we. I need him with me...and you at home with the boys."

_Way to make me feel like a househusband, Vin._

"Here is not the best place to discuss this," Vincent replied to his unspoken thought. Preston must have been teaching him to read faces again.

They returned home via the Prydwen, dropping off samples, tech and documents, plus two cans of reactor coolant for which Proctor Ingram slipped them both a bottle of whiskey to share, courtesy of the entire maintenance crew.

Mac was glad to get back to Sanctuary. Floating in a fire-powered metal balloon above water was a wonderful juxtaposition of all the elements that _didn't_ earn his affinity. He had to stop himself from physically getting down to kiss the ground when he stepped off the Vertibird but then, that was partly because he didn't want mud in his beard.

Duncan ran out to greet him, followed by Marcy nursing Roberta, telling Mac in detail all the little ways the cheeky monkey had tried her over the past two days but also adding that he was 'lovely with the baby'. Jun came out holding what had been a Salisbury Steak box with drawings of green and orange stick men on. "Dad an' Pop" Duncan had explained, beaming. Naked stick figures except that the green one wore a hat and the orange one had a moustache which reached down to his chest.

Mac braced his only-recently stimmed back for the running Dunc, caught him up and tipped him upside-down under one arm whilst running a gentle hand over the baby's head. "Hey, li'l sis." Vincent stayed just long enough to sit at the table with his family and eat a meal before repacking his backpack, hugging the boys and Mac all together and then heading over the bridge.

* * *

" Are you sure this the best course of action, brother?" Danse asked as he wiped grease off his hands and threw the rag aside.

"I'm not sure there even _is_ a best option here, Dan, but I have to try. Ticon is the last remaining safehouse in the 'wealth. I'm really hoping to find it empty but if there are any agents and synths left inside, I'm hoping that with you by my side, they might at least listen."

"Doubtful. They may not have been informed of my status. Also, you were instrumental in the slaught.."

"STOP. Just…stop. You know how I feel about that," Vin shouted, his face flushing red.

Danse raised his hands submissively. "Simply stating facts. Though…perhaps I could have phrased it a little more sensitively."

"Damn right, you could've."

The radio chattered cheerily in the corner. Travis was feeling the groove today. Vin sat down heavily on the blue soda bar stool and stroked his prospector-like moustache.

"You're probably right, though," Vin muttered through a resigned sigh. "I have to at least try."

They spent the best part of an hour selecting the best stealth armour and weaponry available, making slight modifications and planning their route. It was an eerily quiet journey. They surprised a pack of hounds and quickly defeated two, scaring the last away. The whir of Vertibird blades caused them both to duck into Raider territory but luckily, there had not been any sackheads home for weeks. If the lancer spotted Vincent with Danse, Vin knew he was under orders to fire, Sentinel present or not. 

Ticonderoga stood apparently abandoned. Vin pressed the elevator switch in just the right way to get it to work and holstered his weapons. The creaky lift wobbled its way to the top. Vin's heart was pounding. He wished briefly for a quick hit of something but suppressed that thought before it took shape. The elevator doors wheezed open. A couple of agents (or maybe synths, or one of each, it was so hard to tell) spun around in surprise. The woman in front quickly drew a weapon. Vin held his palms out and tried to placate her but she yelled 'Bull!' and fired. Vincent tipped to one side reflexively, her bullet grazing his shoulderplate and disarmed her with a bullet to the elbow. The cowering synth behind made a run for the stairs. Danse knocked the assailant down and glowered at her, commanding her to stay down.

Vincent, meanwhile, gun still in hand but lowered, cautiously mounted the stairs. He rounded a corner just as he heard the sound of a gun being reloaded. Highrise stood there, barrel raised, a desperate look on his face.

"Get out. Now. Before I do shit I never signed up for."

Vin lowered his gauss rifle and slowly gestured for Danse to do the same. "HQ gave us no choice, Highrise. They wouldn't listen. They were closed to change. That's how war is perpetuated."

The slender, dark figure lowered his weapon just a fraction. He was listening.

"This man here was Brotherhood until they discovered that he too is an escaped synth but they let him go. We still need you, Highrise. I need you, to prove to the Brotherhood that Gen 3 synths are truly alive, that they deserve our protection just as much as any hardworking settler with an unfortunate past."

Suddenly, the gun was up again. "No. No, you can't talk your way out of murdering all those agents, all those synths. Can't let you go, Bullseye. You know too damn much."

Suddenly they were all moving, weaving and ducking, the enclosed space filling painfully with the harsh explosions and tinkling of spent shells, the red glare of laser fire and the acrid ozone stench. Hot metal, burned flesh, melted plastic and the odd sickly-savoury scent of deceased synthetic. Within less than four minutes, Ticonderoga stood quiet once more. Danse cocked his head at the sound of muffled whimpers behind tipped filing cabinets. The previously rescued synth H2 and a female cowered in the corner. The ex-paladin raised his gun, reluctantly but Vin motioned him to ceasefire. It may not have been kind, leaving the two green escapees to fend for themselves but Vincent felt sick. He had hoped that Highrise would see sense. None of them did, though. Maybe they were so steeped in paranoia and their own railroaded brand of righteous fervour that there never had been any hope of changing their course.

They crept home without speaking a word, this time avoiding a distant Supermutant who had been so kind as to strap a high explosive to his arm. It took out the two greenskins eating raider drumsticks and the cadging mutant hound at their feet.

* * *

Red Rocket's welcome silhouette, inked in red by the spotlamp below, beckoned on the horizon. Danse laid a hand on Vincent's shoulder. "Hold up, brother." Vin stopped but grumbled that they were a stonesthrow from home. He had begun to sound rather like MacCready at times which vaguely irritated the muscular synth. "You gave the man a chance but he made his choice. We can't help those who do not seek the support."

"Yeah. I didn't have a hope of derailing the runaway train. Maybe I should've left well enough alone."

"If you had, chances are that the Railroad would renew itself only as a synth sympathiser raider gang or as a legitimate threat. Either way, they chose their fight. War always comes down to two things. Live or Die." 

Vin was looking down pensively at his hands, rubbing flakes of dried blood off them. "I've had enough of war," he said quietly. "Time for a change."


	21. Peace. Peace Never Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Commonwealth was never the same again after the revival of the pre-war Staff Sergeant Vincent 'Nate' Hudson. He survived the harsh new world he found himself in, unrooted the Institute, found his son, united the Brotherhood and the Minutemen and saved lives. He also lost friends and allies along the way. Every story is really part of a continuum, they don't really have beginnings nor endings but for the sake of this narrative, this is The End.  
> Well, save for The Epilogue to follow ;)

Vincent looked at himself in the dull mirror. He adjusted his military cap, trimmed a few stray whiskers and tightened his chestplate. _This was finally it. "If I don't do this, all that blood and crap I've waded through won't mean a damn thing, " he thought._ "Lookin' good, Vin. I mean, Sir," MacCready said with a grin. 

"Ready to go?" Proctor Ingram leaned around the Red Rocket doorway like some metallic giantess. Vincent turned, put his left hand on Mac's shoulder and his right on Tess' cheek. "We can do this. Together. You know I wouldn't be here without you. Whatever happens, I'll always remember that." Tess nodded, her face resolute yet concerned. Mac's open look of adoration for Vin had an edge of determination to it. The sun rose on one of those rare days that goes down in history.

The three set off on foot to the obscured Vertibird landing site at Sanctuary. Vincent turned to MacCready. "Knight-Major, your orders are to remain here. Do not, under any circumstances, try to find me." Then, hands on Mac's shoulders, he said "Look after Duncan and Shaun. Defend Sanctuary Hills. If you need to, retreat to one-eleven. I'm hoping it won't come to that but if it does, expect Haylen and Rhys to rendevous with you. If they've brought Squires, keep them safe but under guard. Countin' on you, buddy." A swift hug and a whispered "Love you, Mac," and he was off, pulled into the waiting 'bird by Ingram's strong arm, leaving MacCready staring up into the sky, feeling a mess of emotions, wondering if that was the final goodbye.

The journey was swift and thankfully uneventful. They arrived and made their way quietly to the old Boston Airport Ruins, deep underground, to a room under guard by experienced Paladins. They entered and took their places around a single large table, joining Paladin-Colonel Preston Garvey, Lancer Captain Kells, Knight Captain Cade and Proctor Quinlan. One seat remained empty. They waited in silence for a short while, Sentinel-General Vincent feeling the faint vibrations of Liberty Prime's patrolling footsteps even this deep underground. Then, muffled cries of 'Ad Victoriam' could be heard. The door opened to admit Arthur Maxson, Elder and leader of the Eastern forces of the Brotherhood of Steel. All rose, placing fists on hearts but wordlessly, as a ritualised recognition of the secrecy of this meeting.

Elder Maxson sat, followed by all but Proctor Ingram who did her best to stand at ease. Some formal words were spoken, symbols of the Order of the Brotherhood. Elder Maxson fixed his gaze upon the man who had enabled their great victory and spoke in rich tones: "Vincent, Sentinel, Brother. A meeting such as this happens but once in a lifetime. It must be brief before we disperse, for the safety of all. Choose your words wisely. What matter is of such great import as to risk this gathering?"

For a moment, Vincent felt as if he were the protagonist in some fantastic story, sat around a table with a Lord and his advisors and warriors. He brushed the Grognak moment aside.

"Elder, in light of our victory against the Institute and accumulated intelligence on the state of the Commonwealth, much of which I confirm from personal experience, I propose a change in the fundamental stance of the Brotherhood and challenge the Elder's interpretation of the Grand Mission Statement. Arthur Maxson, your words and actions bring your morality into question. You say you wish to safeguard humanity when what you are really focussing on is biological human supremacy. You are conveniently forgetting that even those born from a womb are capable of abandoning their humanity - you want proof, I can draw up a long list of raiders, gunners, psychopaths and misfits - and thus you are also, to the detriment of the Brotherhood, overlooking individuals whose humanity holds true merit despite their physical origin or current altered state."

No-one was permitted to speak until the Sentinel-General had said his piece but a few sharp intakes of breath could be heard. "As General of the Minutemen, our force stands in solidarity on this issue. As Sentinel of the Brotherhood I uphold the code. As a human being, one which has the privilege and responsibility of having experienced the world from a unique temporal perspective, I stand by my morals. I stand ready to protect all peaceful beings, be they biological or synthetic, the citizens of our Commonwealth." Nothing could be heard save the soft squeak of Maxson's gloves as his fists clenched. "The Proposal is this: _Vincent silently called on Nora's spirit to guide him. He could really do with channeling a good lawyer right now._ To grant the same rights and responsibilities to Gen 3 synths as to humans. The reasoning is such: the Institute is gone. There is only one place left capable of producing Gen 3 Synths, the location of which will only be revealed upon acceptance of the proposal. If revealed, the technology must be peacefully confiscated.

"They can neither reproduce nor age as humans do. Careful non-intrusive monitoring would aid in identifying Gen 3s who may yet be unaware of their status. Look, enough of the formal lingo. I need to talk straight because I need you all to understand this. We're all machines. Granted, those of us here, to the best of our knowledge, are biological ones with a good understanding of how our bodies came to be but no proof, only belief, of how the essence that makes us who we are gets to run the machine. The Institute managed to sketch out bodies and programmable minds. They made Gen 1s and 2s. Robots. Soulless copies, tools that can sweep floors, run stores and shoot weapons. They have no sense of self. The Gen 3s do. They have the same capacity for greatness or villainy that we do. The argument about programming doesn't hold water here though. During my pre-war training, we heard about plants, people who had been conditioned to behave in certain ways, given triggers to set off violent behaviour without them being aware of what they were doing. The Gen 3's are no different. I met a former Minuteman, memory wiped and defeated at Quincy, a tortured soul who had become a Raider and because of that, not being able to go back to being a decent man, turned to alcohol and gave up the good fight, became the very thing he once opposed. I've met a man, copied and downloaded into a mechanical body, a prototype before the Synthetic Biology was invented. This man, though relying on what I see as a whole-body prosthetic, is the kindest, most compassionate being I've ever met. A Handy bot, after two centuries of devoted research, developed empathy and compassion, thought processes above and beyond its operating parameters. It grew, evolved. A way was found to successfully transfer them into an 'empty' Gen 3 body and without whom I would not be breathing still." 

"And then…." Vincent took a shuddering breath, "…there's my son. Our baby boy was stolen from my wife's cryo chamber. They murdered her to get him and called me 'the back up', re-froze me as they left. I didn't know it at the time but they'd put me back on ice for another 60 years. They raised him, twisted him, indoctrinated him until he rose to become their leader. Called himself 'Father'. " Vincent raised his voice, the emotion no longer suppressable. "You know what a _headfuck_ it was to finally be reunited with my son who was twice my age and my _enemy_? I did my duty. Killed my own son. My Shaun. For you…for the good of the Commonwealth. Then, as we left the Institute, this kid turned up. A holotape from my biological son later revealed that this kid was actually a copy he'd made of himself. A ten year old boy, essentially him but innocent, a clean slate. Wrong, freakish I admit - I mean, he won't ever grow up and that even disturbed some of the Institute scientists!"

Maxson's face was unreadable. He sat still as stone. The others listened in silence, some faces red with rage, others pale with shock.

Vincent gathered himself once more. "It is my formal finding that Gen3 Synths are as innocent of their creation as any of us humans; furthermore, they share the same responsibilities as we, have the same capacity for corruption or courageousness and pay for the gift of longevity with their inability to naturally procreate. As General of the Minutemen, I therefore pronounce them equal citizens of the Commonwealth and as such, bear the shared responsibility of keeping the peace . As Sentinel of the Brotherhood of Steel I log my formal concern in regards to the developing blind fanaticism that seems to be pervading the higher eschelons of command and urge you all to consider my words _very_ carefully. I await the Elder's decision." Vincent sat but added, "The last thing I want is war, Arthur. I strive for peace constantly but you know, _peace_ , peace changes everything."

The stunned silence lasted a few breaths before the table erupted into a short-lasting babble. It ceased as Arthur Maxson raised his hand and stood, slowly, glowering. "You would have me choose War with the Minutemen and subsequent necessary oppression of the Commonwealth people or the betrayal of a key Brotherhood ideal, leading to splintering the East Coast faction from the whole. Alternatively, we could simply withdraw, leaving the Commonwealth to its slow demise under the onslaught of mutants, ferals and degenerates." 

"Elder, if I may…" started Kells but he was silenced with a gesture.

Maxson was looking from face to face, meeting their eyes with his penetrating gaze. "We do not retreat. Neither do we wage war against fellow human beings lightly. Sentinel-General, you followed orders, (albeit reluctantly I've been given to understand) and wiped out the Railroad. Why, on what's left of this tortured Earth, would you think that I'd even _consider_ the third option?" Vincent gave just a hint of a smile and said, "Because you let Danse live."

Those who knew remained silent whilst Kells, Cade and Quinlan broke out in shocked exclamations. None of them, however, directly opposed their Elder. Only Lancer-Captain Kells stood to face Maxson. "Elder, this is treason and bribery, surely. I don't believe that _synth traitor_ lives." Preston jumped in. "He is no traitor to the Brotherhood, Kells. I know treachery through bitter experience. If anything, it was the Brotherhood that betrayed one of their most skilled, loyal soldiers. Now I don't know how he escaped but I'm glad he did. He remains loyal to the cause despite the utter rejection."

Maxson hit the table with both hands. "Enough! Garvey, Kells." Cade and Quinlan had the sense to remain silent. "If it has come to this, then it is time." Elder Maxson started walking slowly around the table, hands behind his back, prowling like a lion. "You all deserve the truth but know this: as Elder I bear full responsibility. You are all experienced enough to know that in war, we are too often presented with impossible decisions." He completed his circuit, placed his gloved hands on the back of his chair and declared, "I allowed Danse to escape. _However!_ " he shouted, "On principle he remains officially dead to us. No synth bearing that likeness will be permitted to join the Brotherhood while I live. If the Minutemen _happen_ to recruit one such then the Sentinel will be held fully responsible for his actions." Kells shifted uneasily. "Sir, I am shocked and dismayed. Permission to speak privately?" "Denied, Lancer-Captain. It seems that now is the time to speak openly, though I shall shoulder the full responsibility of this final decision. Am I clear?" A chorus of 'Yes, Elder.' Arthur Maxson sat, elbows on the table, clasped his hands and rested the bridge of his nose on his thumbs. The tension in the room was palpable as he contemplated the situation. Finally, he raised his head majestically and declared, "Our duty to the Commonwealth is clear. We must risk division and exile in pursuit of our duty, to guard technology from those who would misuse it. Having destroyed the Institute, the remaining task is to guard and guide those who are an…innocent… byproduct." 

Proctor Quinlan couldn't contain himself. "If we must, Elder, then perhaps we should set up a register and monitor…" Again the halting gesture, this time from Vincent. "No. If we start down that path then we're just setting ourselves up for rebellion and hate. We need to include these individuals as equal, much as Ghouls also have that right. Yes, a Ghoul can turn feral and a synth might suddenly become a threat but we are not beyond that risk ourselves. Human men and women can just as easily flip, becoming a danger to those around them." At this, Knight-Captain Cade raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips and nodded. "It is our duty to remain vigilant. If our aim is to rebuild society then we must take account of the fundamental changes that the war created. If you had known the world as I did, before the bombs….look. We either adapt or die. Simple as that." 

* * * * *

The announcement echoed around the Prydwen, flashed up on every Brotherhood terminal. At Cambridge Police Station, the Sentinel-General himself delivered Elder Maxson's decree. There were surprisingly few rebellious outbursts and a scattering of relief on the faces of those who had been silently struggling, questioning their own humanity. Dr. Li was a little less hateful toward Vincent. Haylen and Rhys were loyal to Danse still. Rhys put in a request to transfer to the Minutemen chapter, which Elder Maxson himself granted. Curie chose to come forward and reveal herself as a Synth and offer herself as a research subject in return for a post working alongside Scribe Neriah and one day a week helping out at the Sanctuary Med-Centre. Lancer Captain Kells took the longest to come round to the idea but at the end of the day was loyal to Arthur Maxson and trusted his leadership ability.

Vincent took a small troop, including Maxson, to Arcadia. DiMA and Faraday exchanged their synth production technology in return for a vow from the Elder that the Brotherhood would leave the Synth sanctuary in peace, only allowing the Sentinel-General and one of his companions to return, all other Brotherhood forces to respect a no-go zone, though DiMA did request that they aid the people of Far Harbor whenever possible.

* * * * *

Vincent, bathed in the noon day sun, blue sky above and a light breeze drifting off the water, strode across the bridge and headed toward The Tree. He could see two boys playing Hoop Ball on the drive, a man seated nearby, smoking a cigar and reading a comic. The taller boy saw him first, shouted "Dad!" and ran toward him, followed by the smaller boy, shouting "Vin Pop!" Shaun and Duncan hit Vincent at full pelt and he lifted a boy in each arm, grinning. His eyes met MacCready, sauntering toward him with a goofy smile, showing newly capped teeth. A few paces away he broke into a run, reached the three of them and leapt, grabbing Vin around his neck and throwing his legs around him for a moment until Vin's red face and laughter-strangled chokes convinced Mac to let go. They collapsed in a heap together underneath the old tree. Mac kissed Vin unashamedly and said "I take it that went well, then?" The boys, grossed out to see their dads kissing _again_ ran off to resume their game. "Yeah, you could say that." Vin took the cigar off Mac and placed it in his own mouth. "Welcome to the New Commonwealth, Paladin-Major." MacCready grinned at the promotion. "Come on inside, you big dang hero. Dinner'll be ready." Vin winced, "Oh, no. You cooked?" Mac punched Vin on the arm and called the boys. One happy, post-nuclear family. Some things…well, some things never change.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **From the Authors**
> 
>  
> 
> TheArtOfBlossoming: This has been a work of pure, aspie passion! It has been a creative outlet, a therapeutic distraction and a love-song to this game and these characters. When the lovely banquos_ghost, whose fic I'd read early on, agreed to my request that she write MacCready's part in this (because to me, her Mac is perfect) I was thrilled. I had no idea what I was really asking, though! I daredn't do a word-count... Co-writing conversations in real time (sometimes) via social media was an exciting experience. It was very rewarding roleplay. I shall miss our In Character conversations. 
> 
> banquos_ghost: I can’t believe that Vin and Mac’s story has finally been told. It’s been a great experience working with a co-writer, especially such a great writer as the Art Of Blossoming. I’ve lost count of the number of times AOB has had to kick my arse, but I’m glad she did and I apologise for my appalling work ethic! It feels like the end of an era saying goodbye to Mac and Vin, they’ve been with me through some turbulent times in my life and in some ways their story has reflected my own personal journey. I shall miss them like old friends.
> 
>  
> 
> _A huge THANKYOU to all our readers, Kudos-ninjas, Tumblr sharers and commenters. Wishing you Peace, Love and all good things. *BG and AOB hold hands and take a bow*_


End file.
